


Sweet Little Lies

by NoThanksss



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But he's dying on the inside, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Is A Good Friend, Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Deceit | Janus Sanders Needs a Hug, Deceit | Janus Sanders-centric, Depressed Deceit | Janus Sanders, Extreeeemly briefly, Flirty Deceit | Janus Sanders, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It's Not That Bad I Promise, Janus is a shameless flirt, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Platonic!DRLAMP, Remus being Remus, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, someone save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoThanksss/pseuds/NoThanksss
Summary: For sides who are supposed to be so good, the lights sure seem to lie a lot.Janus would know. He can taste them.But it's not any of his business what the lights do. He has no reason to get involved at all. Helping them could come at serious cost to himself, so why should he? It's not like he cares if any of them get hurt, anyway.(But maybe that's the biggest lie of them all.)
Relationships: Deceit | Janus Sanders & Everyone, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 86
Kudos: 462





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> It's weird. I'm not one for Janus angst usually, but it turns out that he's really easy to mess with, so here we are.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think :)

Janus couldn’t help but be intrigued when he tasted chocolate chip cookies.

The taste was so undeniably Patton, which was interesting. The moral side hated lying and tried to avoid it whenever possible. But the taste couldn’t possibly belong to anyone else. Janus smirked, wondering what it was that finally brought the cheerful side over to the dark side.

But it wasn’t really any of his business. So he ignored it, save for savoring the rare taste of chocolate.

Most of the other sides didn’t know that Janus could literally taste their lies. They knew that he had some way of knowing, but none of them except for Remus were aware of how. It was actually pretty amusing, especially since this blatant lack of knowledge bothered Logan to no end. 

Everyone’s lies had a distinct taste, except for Janus’s own. His lies were so natural for him that they didn’t taste like anything. His truths, on the other hand… well that wasn’t important.

In any case, he couldn’t help but be grateful when Patton lied. His lies were so sweet in a way that none of the other sides could provide. 

Janus grew even more curious when Patton started to lie more consistently. It started with just a few small lies, hints of chocolate floating down the halls. But as the days went on, Patton started to lie even more. Janus was almost overloaded with sweetness.

He had to admit, he liked this change of pace. But as time passed, his curiosity only grew, and eventually he decided that he had to know. 

What could possibly be causing Patton to lie so much?

So he decided to investigate. Maybe he should’ve felt bad about spying on the light sides, but, well, he didn’t. So sue him. He was a dark side for a reason.

But as Janus started to piece together the situation, he started to feel kind of bad. Because these lies that Patton was telling… well, they weren’t good for him.

Take, for example, the other day, when Janus had gotten up early to watch Patton making breakfast. Don’t ask how he concealed himself, it’s part of his job as the most manipulative side to be able to. Just know that it wasn’t comfortable.

Janus watched with interest as Patton cooked up some eggs and bacon for the other sides. He wasn’t acting how Janus would’ve expected. Janus would’ve presumed that Patton was a morning person, with a smile on his face no matter the time of day. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see Patton humming to himself cheerfully, or even singing out loud. 

But Patton wasn’t like that at all. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t humming or singing. In fact, he looked exhausted.

Janus was loath to admit it, but he felt a pang in his chest at the sight. He couldn’t help but have a soft side for the paternal figure. Sure he was naive, annoyingly innocent, and quite honestly represented the opposite of what Janus stood for, but… he was just so _sweet_. Almost disgustingly so. Seeing Patton sad was like looking at a kicked puppy. You’d have to be heartless to not feel bad.

But Janus had yet to discover the source of that chocolatey goodness, so he kept watching.

Things got interesting the moment another side entered the room. Unsurprisingly, it was Logan, who was always going on about the importance of maintaining a consistent schedule or whatever.

Personally, Janus thought consistency was overrated.

Regardless, Janus watched as Patton’s demeanor drastically shifted. He stood up straight, or well, as straight as any of them could be, a smile stretched across his face. “Good morning, Logan!” he chirped.

Ah. There it was. The faintest taste of chocolate.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan said curtly. “How are you this morning?”

“Oh, just dandy,” Patton gushed, looking way more excited than anyone had the right to be this early in the morning. It was what Janus had expected from him to begin with.

Which was why it was so concerning when the warm taste of cookies washed over Janus.

Patton was… lying?

Janus’s eyes snapped over to Logan, who clearly didn’t notice Patton’s deception. He nodded, with a simple, “That is good to hear,” before dropping the subject.

Janus frowned. So… All the lies that had slowly been building up from Patton… were about him being happy? And the truth was that he wasn’t? Why would he lie about that? The light sides were so gushy, it was disgusting. They were always pretending they were like a real family, and saying “I love you” to each other and gross stuff like that.

Janus knew better. He knew that you couldn’t always count on the people you thought were family. 

But the lights didn’t think that. _Patton_ definitely didn’t think that. So why was he keeping this to himself?

Janus watched as Roman entered next. Patton seemed, if possible, to grow even more excited. “Roman!” he cheered. “Good morning!”

Roman laughed, a rich sound. “Good morning, Padre,” he said fondly. “Glad to see you’re so happy this fine morning.”

Patton beamed in response. “Well why wouldn’t I be? There’s so much to be excited about!”

Lies. Lies, lies, lies. 

“Indeed! I can tell today is going to be a great day!” Roman smiled.

“It should be, as long as we follow the efficiency plan I laid out earlier this week,” Logan cut in.

“Don’t worry, Lo,” Patton giggled. “We will.”

“That’s what you said last week,” Logan grumbled.

“Well, today’s a new day, which means a new chance! It’s going to be fantastic!”

Janus gagged. What a bunch of saps.

Plus, the sickeningly sweet taste of chocolate wasn’t helping. 

Janus had almost forgotten that there was one more side they were waiting for, until he walked in.

Virgil.

Janus’s heart did something strange inside his chest. Oh, there he was. Janus stared as Virgil joined the other sides at the table, looking for all the world as if he belonged there.

With a slight pang, Janus realized that he did.

Even if Janus hadn’t been the embodiment of lies, he would’ve sworn up and down that that realization did hurt as much as it did.

He tore his gaze away from Virgil. That wasn’t why he was here. 

He watched as the morning continued in much the same way. Virgil seemed no more aware of Patton’s lies than Logan or Roman had been. By the time breakfast was over, Janus was practically drowning in the taste of chocolate.

After the other sides left the kitchen, Janus carefully removed himself from his hiding spot and made his way over to the darker side of the mindscape to get breakfast of his own. 

After all, just because he could taste lies didn’t mean that they filled his stomach. He still needed like, actual food.

He mulled over the situation as he ate a bowl of cereal. A part of him was tempted to just leave it alone. He knew the answer to his question, so there was no reason to get involved any further. It wasn’t any of his business if Patton wanted to repress his negative emotions.

Plus, if Patton kept lying, Janus could keep getting that delicious cookie taste on a regular basis.

Janus tried not to feel guilty about that thought. He was supposed to be bad, right? What was so wrong about benefiting from another’s pain?

Oh wait. That sounded even worse.

He sighed, dropping his spoon into his bowl. He found that he wasn’t all that hungry anymore.

Fine, then. He’d see what he could do.

He cleaned up after himself quietly, before beginning his journey back towards the light side. He paused in the doorway between the two sections of the mindscape, taking a moment to stare at an old stain on the floor. Probably the only one in the entire dark side that hadn’t been caused by Remus.

He shook his head. No use thinking about the past. 

Janus stepped into the light side, trudging down the hallway to Patton’s room. He wasn’t looking forward to this, but he had a feeling that he was only going to feel worse the longer he indulged himself in Patton's lies. It was counterintuitive for the embodiment of self-preservation to try and stop the lies of another, but he couldn’t deny that something had changed in him lately. He wasn’t sure what it was, or what had caused it, but whatever it was was making him determined to get Patton to stop being so dumb and just get help.

It was stupid, really. Patton had all those people who cared about him and would drop anything to help him at a moment’s notice, and he just… didn’t take advantage of that? Janus couldn’t wrap his head around that. In a situation like that, Patton telling would benefit him without hurting the others. The net gain was positive, and it didn’t even hurt anyone! It was purely beneficial!

Then again, Patton had always had a skewed perception on these matters. If anyone was going to hide negative emotions, it would be him.

Janus hesitated in front of Patton’s door. Patton was the least likely to get mad at him for appearing without notice, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe he should just turn back before he managed to make Patton hate him. He didn’t want to go through that.

Not again.

But before he could retreat, the door swung open, and Patton startled at the sight of him. Oh well, then. Too late now. Might as well make the most of it.

“Oh,” Patton said, shock painted across his face. “Hello, Janus. Can I do something for you?” he asked uncertainly.

Janus threw on his characteristic sly smirk. “I certainly hope not,” he purred, grabbing Patton’s hand and pushing past him, pulling them both into Patton’s room. Patton squeaked in surprise, but didn’t resist, not that Janus expected him to.

Janus released Patton once they were inside, the door shut behind them, and he made himself comfortable on Patton’s bed. His eyes flitted about, taking in Patton’s room for the first time. It was positively glowing, though the lights were dim enough as to not hurt Janus’s eyes, which was greatly appreciated. The room was hard to describe, but the best word Janus could come up with for it was soft. It was so very soft.

How nice.

Patton stood awkwardly in the center of the room, watching Janus nervously. 

“So um… was there something you wanted, or…?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my favorite Morality just to say hi?”

Patton looked guilty at that. “Oh no! I didn’t mean… I just. I mean… you never have before,” he mumbled.

Luckily Janus was an excellent actor, because it took just about all of his acting prowess to not burst into laughter. Instead, he allowed himself a low chuckle. “Relax, darling. I’m _not_ kidding.”

Patton flushed bright red at Janus’s casual comment. “What– what do you want?” he asked firmly, stammering only slightly on his words. “Please just give me a straightforward answer.”

Janus smirked. “ _Straight_ -forward? I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he said with a wink.

Patton squeaked again, burying his face in his hands. “I appreciate the wordplay, but could you please just get to the point already?”

Janus was taken aback by Patton’s frustrated tone. He was normally so nice. Too nice, if you asked Janus, but well, it is what it is, redundancy aside. 

Maybe Patton just didn’t care about being nice to Janus.

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, there was a sudden shift in Patton’s demeanor. His hands dropped listlessly to his sides, and he shook his head slightly before giving Janus one of his patented (or Patton-ed, to use Patton’s own words) smiles.

“Sorry about that, kiddo,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t know what came over me. What can I do for you?”

Ah. There it was.

A sweet little lie.

Janus closed his eyes, breathing in that heavenly chocolate taste. He couldn’t help but smile as the lie rolled deliciously across his tongue.

“Janus?”

Janus snapped his eyes open. Ah, right. Patton still didn’t know what was going on.

“Well, being the embodiment of lies _doesn’t_ come with certain… benefits. Such as maybe… detecting the lies of others?”

Patton paled.

“I obviously wasn’t drawn in when the number of lies in the mindscape increased. And to find out that the source came from none other than precious little Patton?”

He bared his teeth in a sharp grin. “How… _delicious_.”

Patton shrunk in on himself a little, eyes flitting away from Janus’s almost predatory gaze. “They’re not lies,” he mumbled.

Janus frowned. “What?”

“They’re not lies,” he repeated. “Your lie detector must be broken. So don’t worry about it. I promise it’s not a big deal.”

Well now. This was interesting.

Patton wasn’t just lying to the other sides about his sadness.

He was lying to himself, too.

Janus hummed in thought. Perhaps this situation was a little more delicate than he had initially realized.

“Sit next to me,” he suggested gently. Patton hesitated for a moment, before reluctantly complying.

“It’s really not worth the trouble,” he said unconvincingly.

“Patton.” Janus stared the other side directly in the eye. “I _don’t_ already know what you’ve been lying about,” he said meaningfully.

Patton started to protest, but Janus cut him off with a pointed look. “My ‘lie detector,’ as you put it, _is_ broken. You haven’t been lying for weeks.”

Patton sighed. “I thought… I thought if I tried really hard, then it would be true,” he whispered, and Janus was alarmed to see a light sheen to his eyes. “I didn’t want to bother the others about it. I was so sure I could handle it by myself. But I guess I haven’t been doing a very good job,” he said, giving Janus a watery smile, “if it was bad enough for you to notice.”

Janus inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“It’s okay, though,” Patton said, staring down at his lap forlornly. “I know I’m not supposed to lie, but in this case it’s for a good reason. The others don’t need to know, and I’ll– I’ll be okay. And if I’m not, well, that’ll be okay too,” he said, looking resigned.

Janus stared at him for a long moment. Patton was painfully sensitive, so he had to pick his next words carefully. 

“What in the actual hell, Patton?”

Patton jumped, looking up at Janus with wide eyes. “What?”

“Clarify for me, if you will, what exactly it is you are hiding.”

“Oh. Um…” Patton shifted uncomfortably. “I just get… sad? Sometimes? Like… really sad,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “But I don’t want to bother the others with that, so whenever they ask how I’m doing, I just pretend that I’m okay. It’s better that way.”

Janus nodded sharply. He had been right, then.

“And how do you know that telling them would bother them?”

“Because I always bother them!” Patton burst out. “Even when I’m being normal, I’m just a nuisance. So I definitely don’t want to force them to deal with me like… this.”

Janus narrowed his eyes. “Oh yes, because I’m sure they’ll be _thrilled_ when it all inevitably comes crashing down.” He leaned in, invading Patton’s space to make sure he got his point across. “Because it _will_ come crashing down. One way or another, you will break.”

He was surprised and a little disconcerted when a bitter taste rose in his throat. It wasn’t very strong, and he had only tasted it a few times before, but he knew immediately what it was.

The taste of telling the truth.

The taste brought back equally bitter memories, and Janus willed himself to swallow past it. Now wasn’t the right time to dwell on that.

When would be the right time? Well, hopefully never.

He snapped his attention back to Patton, who was blinking rapidly and leaning away from Janus just slightly. 

“No,” he breathed. “I can’t do that. I can’t burden them with this.”

“And why not? It’s clear how much they all despise you.”

Patton seemed to forget who he was talking to, because all he said was, “I _know_!” before bursting into tears.

“I know they all hate me,” he sobbed, and suddenly he was leaning into Janus, clutching at his jacket desperately. Janus stiffened at the sudden contact.

“Or at the very least, they don’t think I’m important! They always shut me down when I try to talk; at this point I doubt they’d notice if I stopped showing up! It makes me feel so– so– so _worthless_.”

Janus was at a complete loss for words as the other side sobbed into his chest. He attempted a comforting pat on the back, but immediately felt awkward and gave up.

He tried very hard not to be reminded of another time, with another side. A side he knew well, or had thought he did. A side that he had no problem comforting, a side that he would’ve held for days if it would get him to stop crying.

He didn’t try quite hard enough, apparently.

Patton’s sobs slowly petered out, quieting into gentle hiccups. “You see why I have to lie, right Jan?” he mumbled into Janus’s chest. “I’m not as important as the others. They don’t deserve to have to deal with me.”

And Janus’s heart broke just a little bit more. Because he didn’t taste even a hint of a lie.

Patton truly and utterly believed what he was saying.

“Patton, darling,” he began, hesitantly bringing up a gloved hand to stroke the moral side’s hair. Patton nuzzled into the touch, which Janus took as a sign that he didn’t completely hate it. “You misunderstood me. The others don’t hate you. They care about you very much. And they would hate to see you feeling this way.”

The bitterness in his throat only worsened at the explicit truths, but Janus couldn’t bring himself to care.

Because he had realized now a truly frightening difference between himself and Patton.

Janus used lies as a means of self-preservation. Patton was using them to tear himself apart.

And Janus refused to sit back and watch it happen.

Patton looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “But–”

“No,” Janus insisted. “No buts. It’s the truth. I know all about lies, Patton, and I can promise that this isn’t one.”

He bit back a cough. He needed to stop, it was only going to get worse if he kept this up.

Janus was alarmed to see tears welling up again in Patton’s eyes. “You really mean that?”

Janus nodded. “I do.”

He let out a startled gasp when Patton tackled him in a hug. “Thank you,” he cried, and oh, he was crying again. Janus allowed himself to relax a little bit more this time, comforting Patton the best he could. He was a bit disconcerted when he realized that at some point, he had started to cry too.

That didn’t make any sense. Janus never cried.

But he quickly realized that it wasn’t entirely his fault. Patton’s room was naturally nostalgia-inducing, and it only got worse the more emotional Patton got. Janus doubted even Logan could resist getting emotional in this situation.

But even if it wasn’t his fault, it was still annoying.

As Patton moved to sit up, Janus discreetly wiped at his tears. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

“You’re right,” Patton said, still sniffling a little bit. “I should tell them.” His voice quaked a bit, and Janus could tell he was still nervous about the idea. “You’re sure they don’t hate me?”

Janus smirked a little. “Patton, darling. Would I lie to you?”

Patton opened his mouth to respond, hesitated, then frowned. “Um…”

Janus laughed. “Kidding, of course. Now, If we’re done here…?” 

He stood carefully, trying not to betray his shakiness. Patton’s emotions were washing over him in waves, giving him vertigo, and all the truth-telling he’d been doing didn’t help.

He needed to get out before he completely lost his composure.

“Oh, sure,” Patton said. “Thanks again, Janus. I’m never really sure what to think of you, but this… this was really nice.”

Janus nodded thoughtlessly. Right. He should’ve known to expect a few boring platitudes from Patton. Janus just wanted to leave though. He took a step backward, inching toward the door.

“Can I ask you a question before you go though?” Nervous. Patton looked nervous. 

Janus was getting nervous that he was about to throw up all over Patton’s pretty room.

But he gave a quick nod.

“Why did you help me?” Patton asked, before immediately looking guilty. “Not that I’m doubting your intentions or anything, I just–”

Janus smiled faintly at the gentle taste of chocolate, but it was bittersweet. For all he knew, he might never get to taste it again.

“I just was a little surprised, is all,” Patton continued, looking incredibly curious.

Janus blamed Patton’s room for what happened next.

He could’ve said anything. There were so many lies that he could’ve given, so many half-truths he could’ve provided. But Patton was staring at him with those wide, innocent eyes, tear tracks still staining his face, and Janus was hit with a heavy wave of nostalgia, a longing for another time. And before he could stop himself, he blurted out the last thing that he expected.

The truth.

“I just don’t like seeing you sad,” he said.

Before quickly sinking out, reappearing in his room, and throwing up into the trash can.

He groaned, spitting into the trash can a few more times in a futile attempt to clear the taste from his mouth. He already knew it wouldn’t work, though. As far as he knew, there was only one way to get rid of that particular taste.

He closed his eyes, actively focusing on sensing out lies. It would’ve been easier to find them if he were actually in the light side of the mindscape, but he didn’t exactly trust himself to be walking around right now. Still, there were many lies to be found, even from his room. It was a little sad, really. Sometimes he wondered if the lights were as close of a family as they liked to pretend to be.

(The most bitter part of him hoped not. He hoped that they were broken beyond repair, dysfunctional beyond anything Janus had ever seen. He hoped that they were too far gone to be saved, that it wasn’t worth it to try to fix them.

The other part of him wished desperately that they were everything he had hoped for.)

Janus sighed in relief as he tasted the familiar lies of the other sides. He greedily ate up all the ones he could reach from here, grateful as the bitterness on his tongue lessened slightly. It would take a few days of eating up lies to get rid of it entirely, he was sure, but that was good enough for now.

He slowly pulled himself off the floor and curled up in his bed. The entire experience had been exhausting, and he felt like he deserved a nap.

Janus loved his ability to detect lies, but it was rather unfortunate that it came with such a serious drawback. It usually wasn’t a problem, unsurprisingly, but Janus was still pretty miffed about it.

The one thing Janus was grateful for was that it didn’t apply to all truths. Just as more important lies from the other sides came with stronger tastes, only particularly important truths would result in such a drastic effect. Simple observations, facts used to back up a claim, or general opinions, for example, were generally harmless.

In fact, his little power seemed to be most clearly attuned to secrets.

Which was fun when it meant learning the gossip of everyone else. Less so when it actively hurt him.

But well, it shouldn’t be a problem anymore. He didn’t plan on doing any truth-telling in the near future. Today had been a one-time thing.

Looking back on it later, Janus realized that that had been the worst lie of them all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :)
> 
> Thanks for your comments, they are very encouraging.
> 
> Janus is almost... inappropriately flirty in this chapter, but it's not that bad. Just thought I'd throw that in there just in case.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Janus had no intention of interfering with Logan’s lies.

If the logical side wanted to pretend to be a robot all the time, then why not let him? It wasn’t hurting anyone, save perhaps Logan himself. But that wasn’t enough to get Janus to act.

Logan just wasn’t as pitifully adorable as Patton. Janus would not be swayed.

Besides, he didn’t want to lose the taste of Logan’s lies. He already missed the taste of chocolate, though he supposed it was satisfying that his meddling had actually worked.

(Sure, he could always make cookies himself, or even ask Patton to do it. The soft side wouldn’t be able to say no, Janus was sure. Still, it wasn’t the same.)

But he would not purposefully deprive himself of Logan’s lies. Logan’s lies were probably the healthiest of the bunch, tasting like that jam Logan had a ridiculous love for; they were refreshing and helped balance out the other tastes in the mindscape in a way that Janus desperately needed. 

Plus, it was honestly pretty entertaining to watch. Janus didn’t need to spy on the lights to know what Logan was lying about. (That didn’t mean that he didn’t, though. Could you blame him? He got bored easily.) The side refused to admit that he could feel things, despite that being far from the truth.

The funniest part? No one ever even called him out on it! And yet he would still continually assert his lack of emotions, bringing it up near constantly to make sure that everyone knew. It only made it more obvious that he wasn’t telling the truth.

But that wasn’t Janus’s problem.

The more he spied on the lights, though, the more concerned he got. Not for Logan, obviously, the logical side could go rot in a hole for all Janus cared. 

No. Janus was concerned for Thomas.

Logan’s complete dedication to his work was having some rather unfortunate effects. The side was constantly working himself, often forgoing sleep for days at a time. That, combined with insistently repressing any and all emotions, was clearly taking its toll. The poor side was exhausted.

Having an exhausted logic couldn’t be good for Thomas.

Or at least that’s what Janus told himself as he stood outside Logan’s door late one night.

Light poured out into the hallway from underneath the door. If Janus was right, (and he was, he had gotten pretty good at spying lately) then this was the third night in the row that Logan had refused to sleep in favor of working.

Janus considered knocking for approximately one second before just pushing the door open. He was supposed to be bad, right? He didn’t have to be polite.

He was completely unsurprised to find Logan hunched over his desk. He was staring intently at some boring looking papers, his eyes wide and unblinking. Janus suspected that if Logan allowed his eyes to close for even a second, he may very well pass out right then and there.

The sight wasn’t at all concerning. Not one bit.

Logan hadn’t even noticed Janus’s abrupt entrance. Janus smirked slightly and snuck up behind the other side silently. He leaned over Logan’s shoulder, feigning interest in… ew, was that math?

“Hello, starlight,” he whispered into Logan’s ear. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Janus stepped back just in time to avoid Logan jumping about a foot into the air. “E equals m c scared,” he swore, spinning around in his chair rapidly, fear flashing in his eyes. His eyes darted about before quickly settling on Janus. “De– Janus,” he said flatly. “What– what are you doing here?”

Janus almost felt bad for startling him, but well… 

It had been pretty funny.

Janus gave him a sly smile. “Must I need a reason to visit my favorite light side?”

Logan rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Yes. Especially if you’re doing it at three in the morning.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Janus said, sitting down on Logan’s bed, which was neatly made. Logan frowned at Janus’s obvious intention to stay. “I think the early hours of the morning are the absolute _best_ time to get things done. Don’t you?”

He smiled at Logan innocently. Logan narrowed his eyes. “What is this about?”

Hmmm. What was the best way to get Logan to do what he wanted? Patton was easy, Patton was manipulable. But Logan… Logan was a little more complicated.

Perhaps candidness was the way to go here.

“Allow me to level with you,” he said seriously. Logan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone. “As you know, my role _isn’t_ to protect Thomas. Self-preservation, if you will.” 

Logan nodded, a suspicious look on his face. 

“This doesn’t include making sure that all the other sides are capable of doing their jobs,” he said, giving Logan a pointed look. 

Logan’s face twisted in anger. “What are you implying?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Janus insisted lightly. “I certainly wouldn’t have any reason to act when Thomas’s logic is working himself to the point of exhaustion. That definitely wouldn’t result in any concern.”

“I am perfectly capable of doing my job,” Logan said sharply. “How dare you suggest otherwise.”

Janus pushed himself to his feet and whisked past Logan, snatching a paper off of his desk. He pretended to inspect it carefully for a few long seconds. Truthfully, he didn’t understand a word of it. Were those integrals? Why would Logan be doing calculus while Thomas was asleep anyway?

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “There’s a mistake.”

“What?!” Logan snatched the paper out of Janus’s hand, scanning it quickly. “No there isn’t.”

“Are you sure?” Janus asked, examining his fingernails carelessly. There wasn’t much to see, as he was wearing his usual gloves, but it contributed to the aloof aesthetic he was going for.

Logan looked anxious for a second and turned his eyes back to the paper. After maybe half a minute, though, he set the paper back on his desk, turning to Janus with a scowl. “There wasn’t a mistake, you snake.”

“And there never will be, at this rate,” Janus said, giving Logan a pointed look. “You _aren’t_ going to burn yourself out working this hard, and that’s _not_ going to hurt Thomas.”

Logan turned back to his desk, reaching toward his pencil. “I can handle it,” he grit out.

Janus sighed. This was getting them nowhere.

“Logan, are you a robot?”

“Functionally, yes,” Logan responded immediately, not even looking up from the paper that he started working on again.

“How about literally?” Janus questioned. “Are you literally a robot?”

Logan hesitated just slightly, before answering with a curt, “No. Unless you count the time I made a facsimile of myself in the form of a robot puppet.”

Janus barely managed not to laugh. Oh, right. He had forgotten the lights had done that. What a group of absolute dorks.

(No, not Remus’s definition.)

“I do not,” he said smoothly. “Do robots need to sleep?” 

“No.”

“Do robots feel things?”

“No. Is there a point to this line of questioning?”

“But we’ve established that you’re not a robot, correct?” Janus forged on. “So it stands to reason that you do need sleep, and that you do feel things.”

Logan sighed, annoyed. “Your reasoning is flawed. Just because I am not a robot doesn’t mean that I cannot have characteristics similar to one. The two are not mutually exclusive.”

“Logan, do you need sleep, yes or no?” Janus snapped.

“Of course not.”

Janus sucked in the distinctive taste of Crofters.

“You cannot lie to me, Logan. Try again.”

That got Logan’s attention. “You never did tell me how that works,” he said, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“I know,” Janus said. “Answer the question.”

Logan frowned petulantly. “Yes, I need sleep,” he grumbled.

Janus grinned. “Ding ding ding! Give the man a prize!”

Logan frowned. “Why would I receive a prize? I simply answered a question that you already knew the answer to.”

Janus bit back a groan. Logan was so literal that it hurt sometimes.

“Never mind. Now for another question. Do you have feelings?”

“I hardly see how that’s relevant.”

“Trust me, it _isn’t_.”

“Well, if you absolutely must know, I don’t.”

Janus sighed at the obvious lie. Honestly, he expected Logan at the very least to grasp the concept.

“Don’t test me, Logan,” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at the other side.

“It’s the truth!” Logan defended. “I don’t feel anything! I refuse to feel anything! I can’t!”

“Deny it all you want, but you _can_ hide it from me,” Janus said.

“You’re wrong,” Logan said resolutely, and Janus caught yet another mouthful of jam. 

Janus gave him a flat look. “You literally said the words ‘E equals m c scared’ not five minutes ago.”

Logan flushed slightly. “That was– that was just a phrase. And to be quite frank, I don’t see why it’s any of your business anyway.”

Janus felt frustration bubbling up inside him. Why did Logan have to be so infuriatingly stubborn?

“I believe I already explained my reasons,” he said testily. “But since you seem to be rather dense for someone who is supposed to embody logic, allow me to explain it again.”

He stepped closer to Logan, leaning over slightly so he could meet the seated side in the eye.

“I’m going to talk nice and slow so that you can get this through your idiotic skull,” Janus said at a measured pace, relishing in the anger slowly building up in Logan’s eyes. “When you do things like refuse to sleep and repress your emotions, it hurts you. And while I don’t give a damn about you, I need you to function so that Thomas can function. Do you understand me?”

The partial admittance of the truth caused a low burn in Janus’s throat, which he promptly ignored.

Logan, instead of being cowed by Janus’s words, grew angrier. His face reddened and his eyes flashed at Janus’s patronizing tone.

“How dare you come into my room and accuse me of failing at my job and letting down Thomas! I do my job day in and day out, and I do it right!” His voice rose, until he was nearly shouting. “And at least Thomas can actually count on me! You’re just a dark side!"

Janus felt a sharp pain in his chest as Logan unintentionally poked at old wounds. Ouch. He was not a fan of that. Not at all.

“And for the last time, I don’t have feelings!”

Janus went back to inspecting his gloved nails, willfully suppressing the dull ache in his heart. “Oh yes, because you _definitely_ don’t seem angry right now,” he said in a bored voice.

“I’m not angry!” Logan shouted angrily.

Janus glanced up from his nails. He looked down at Logan, who was practically fuming at this point. He looked about ready to start a fight, contrasting sharply with his usual nerdy demeanor. 

It was different for Logan. An interesting different. 

A good different.

And that’s when Janus got a truly delicious idea.

Making sure Logan was watching, Janus gave Logan a slow once-over. “Logan, my starlight, has anyone ever told you how stunningly attractive you are when you’re angry?”

That shut Logan up. His face seemed, if possible, to burn an even deeper shade of red. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “But I’m not–” Janus smirked as Logan stammered his way to an answer. “No,” he said finally.

“Well then,” Janus said, sliding himself smoothly into Logan’s lap. Logan stiffened at the unexpected contact, and Janus had to bite back a laugh. “I am absolutely _not_ honored to be the first.”

“What are you doing?” Logan asked stiffly, staring pointedly past Janus at the far wall. 

“Just trying to prove a point, starlight,” Janus purred, draping his arms around Logan’s neck.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Logan’s words sped up, betraying his nervousness. “I do not emit light of any kind, and I am most certainly not a star.”

“Shhh,” Janus hushed as he leaned in closer to whisper into Logan’s ear, his smooth scales brushing against Logan’s cheek. “Tell me, Logan,” he whispered. “What are you feeling right now?”

And then Janus was being unceremoniously shoved to the floor. Luckily he had been rough handled by Remus enough times to know how to take a fall, and he reached the ground safely. He rolled over onto his back to see Logan had jumped to his feet and was staring down at him, a very peculiar expression on his face. Janus allowed himself a few self-satisfied snickers at the sight of the normally composed side looking so flustered.

“My apologies,” Logan said automatically, though he made no move to help Janus up.

Janus decided that the floor wasn’t all that bad, and that he could stand staying down there for a while longer. It was rather unfortunate that his hat had escaped, though. He was pretty sure that it had rolled off into some corner of the room, which was going to make it a pain to retrieve.

“Make it up to me by never lying to my face again,” Janus suggested.

Logan’s shoulders slumped, and he sat back down in his seat heavily, leaning his elbows onto his knees and resting his head in his hands.

“So what now?” he asked in defeat. “You’ll– what, spread my secret? Ruin my reputation? Are you happy now?”

Janus blinked up at him from the floor. “What?” he asked, caught off guard.

Logan looked over to glare at him, though the effect was lost a little due to his bright red face. “I said are you happy now?” he snapped. “Now you can tell everyone else, and they’ll lose all respect for me.” His face darkened a little. “As if they ever had any in the first place.”

“You think the others don’t respect you?” Janus asked incredulously.

“Of course they don’t,” Logan responded immediately, and Janus was surprised to find out that he wasn’t lying. “They’ve proven it time and time again. They never listen to a word I say, and once you tell them that I have these– these–” he struggled for a moment, before finally settling on a word, though it looked as though it physically pained him to say it– “ _feelings_ , it’ll only get worse. They’ll see me as weak.”

Janus thought on that for a moment. “Do Patton’s emotions make him weak?”

“Of course not, and I’d ask you to refrain from saying such ever again,” Logan snarled. Janus smiled faintly. The lights had gotten increasingly protective of Patton since he had told them the truth about his sadness. It was adorable, sappy, and maybe just a little gratifying.

Janus raised an eyebrow at Logan, waiting for him to make the connection.

Logan’s eyes widened in understanding before he immediately scowled. “That’s different,” he argued. “Emotions are Patton’s job. Mine is logic. Emotions play no part in that. In fact…”

Logan trailed off, looking troubled. “These feelings that plague me are only a hindrance. I fear at times that I may be… broken. Flawed. That is why I work so hard. I fear the consequences of Thomas having a faulty logic, so I do whatever I can to avoid that being true.”

Wow. The lights were more messed up than Janus had thought. Honestly, it was a miracle Thomas hadn’t had a breakdown already.

Logan’s gaze refocused, and he looked down at Janus, who was still sprawled comfortably on his floor.

“And I just informed you of all my remaining secrets,” he groaned. “You planned this, didn’t you? I should’ve insisted that you leave the moment I knew your identity. Now you’re going to tell everyone, and Thomas will never trust me or listen to me ever again.”

Logan looked so despondent in that moment that Janus really did feel a little bad. Bad enough to try and reassure the logical side, if only a little.

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

Janus braced himself for the bitter taste this time, but it didn’t help any. It seemed to burn even worse at his willful deviance from his typical speech.

Logan hung his head. “So be it,” he said resignedly. “I expected nothing less from you.”

Oh, shoot. No, wait, that wasn’t–

“No, I mean, I _was_ going to tell everyone,” Janus said, frustrated with himself. He should’ve just lied in the first place. “I am totally planning on telling everyone.”

Logan tilted his head in confusion for a moment, before a wary look settled on his face. “What, blackmail then? I am not sure what you would want from me, and I’m not certain that I would be willing to enter into such a deal with you.”

Well that was just rude. Sure, Janus was bad (or at least, that’s what they all said) but that didn’t mean he would blackmail someone.

(Okay, so maybe he had suggested it to Thomas once or twice. What? It was practical!)

“No, Logan,” Janus said, rolling his eyes. “I _am_ going to blackmail you. And I _am_ planning on telling everyone about this.”

Logan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Then what are you going to do?”

“Me?” Janus chuckled. “Nothing.”

Logan stared at him, simply waiting.

Janus sighed dramatically. “I wasn’t hoping that forcing you to face the truth would get you to stop being so hard on yourself. For Thomas’s sake, of course,” he added hastily.

“Oh.” Logan seemed unconvinced. “You want me to… what exactly?”

Janus finally sat up, though he remained seated on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. “I don’t want you to go to sleep,” he said simply, looking Logan directly in the eye. “And it would be even worse if you stopped repressing your emotions and opened up to your dumb little family. I am completely certain that they won’t accept and respect you and that that won’t make you feel better in the long run, which won’t help Thomas in turn.”

Logan filtered through the lies easily and sat silently for a moment, giving Janus’s words some thought. 

Finally, Logan spoke. “I don’t trust you,” he said plainly, and Janus was unsurprised and not at all hurt by the truthfulness of Logan’s words. “But I will admit that what you have said certainly follows logically. It would be a difficult change for me, so I will have to give it some thought, but I appreciate your input.”

Janus’s eyebrows shot up. That was true, too. 

“Yes, well, all in a day’s work,” Janus said, finally standing up, brushing nonexistent specks of dust off of his jacket. Leave it to Logan to have a freakishly clean room. “And it’s been a long day, so go to sleep. You don’t look exhausted.”

Logan looked longingly at his calculus, but nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you are right.” He got to his feet, wobbling slightly, and Janus remembered just how sleep deprived the other side was. Before he could think about what he was doing, he had jumped forward to steady Logan, leading him to his bed before he could pass out standing up.

“Ah, thank you, Janus,” Logan mumbled sleepily. It seemed that the moment he had given up on work for the night, his brain shut down into a mess of pure tiredness. Janus prayed to whatever god would listen that Logan wouldn’t remember this in the morning.

But before he could actually force the other side into bed, Logan pulled away. “Wait,” he said, and Janus groaned as he walked off to who knew where. When he came back, he was holding something behind his back, a sly smile on his face. Janus barely contained a laugh. Who gave sleepy Logan the right to be this adorable?

Janus raised an eyebrow in question. “Yes?”

With a flourish, Logan pulled out Janus’s hat from behind him and placed it on Janus’s head. Logan smiled at the sight in a way that seemed almost… fond? That couldn’t be it. Logan had no reason to be fond of Janus.

“That’s better,” Logan said, his voice slurred. “You looked funny without it.” 

Janus really did laugh at that. He was counting on Logan not remembering any of this anyway, so it couldn’t hurt. And even if he did? Well, Janus was sure Logan would be far too mortified by his own actions to even consider Janus’s.

“I think you need to go to sleep, starlight.”

Logan nodded sleepily. “Did you know that sleep deprivation can result in extreme fatigue, difficulty concentrating and multitasking, difficulty communicating with others, and…”

And then he collapsed onto his bed. Janus just barely managed to slow his fall, and he twisted him around to get him in a more comfortable-looking position.

“Well that explains a lot,” he muttered. 

Logan looked almost angelically peaceful when he was asleep, and Janus’s heart did something weird inside his chest at the sight of it. Perhaps Logan could rival Patton in terms of adorableness after all. 

As Janus turned to go, he saw Logan shivering slightly. He had noticed that the room was unusually cold. Why? Was it a natural side effect of Logan’s chilly personality? Or did Logan keep it that way to try to help him stay awake on late nights? Janus wasn’t sure.

But, well, if by the time Janus left Logan’s room that night Logan had a blanket tucked securely around him? 

That was nobody’s business but his.

In the weeks that followed, Logan’s lies slowly faded from the mindscape, and Janus tried to be happy about it. Really, he did.

But he couldn’t help missing the lies. They were the next best thing to Patton’s when it came to sweetness, and without them his taste buds were overwhelmed by the other two tastes remaining. He would be crazy not to miss them.

Or maybe he just missed Logan.

It was a ridiculous thought, and Janus dismissed it immediately. They still lived in the same mindscape, after all. Janus still spied on the lights regularly. Nothing had changed.

But at times when he missed that distinctive Logan taste, he found himself fingering the trim of his hat, thinking back to the last side who had held it, and there was only one word to describe the smile that adorned his face.

Fond. Janus was completely and utterly fond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the plan was to make Janus just super flirty all the way around but it ended up focused on Logan haha 
> 
> Oh well, it's fun
> 
> Also apparently Janus is just super parenthetical when I write him. Who knew?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this early bc I got super excited about the new episode!!! This is literally the first time a new video has been posted since I joined this fandom so I'm just like eeeee!!!!
> 
> So I wanted to share with y'all bc this website is literally the only interaction I get with other fanders, so here! Have this chapter that has literally nothing to do with the new episode!
> 
> Anyway, the angst really picks up in this chapter. Last chapter was unexpectedly fluffly, this one was unexpectedly angsty, so be careful. TW for self-hatred, blink and you miss it allusion to self harm, and Remus

Janus didn’t like Roman. 

Roman didn’t like Janus.

Their relationship was simple, based on a mutual dislike of each other.

Was Janus aware of the lies Roman told both himself and others daily? Obviously, yes. Did he care about that? Obviously, no.

Truth be told, it was a little pathetic to watch. Literally everyone knew about Roman’s insecurities, but he still denied having them, and poorly at that. For being such a good actor (well, if you asked Janus, he’d say he was mediocre at best, but no one ever did ask him), Roman was a horrible liar.

But Janus was fine with that. As the lies in the air slowly dwindled, he treasured each one that remained. He didn’t _need_ them, not really, but they made for a delicious treat. Roman’s lies, especially, were rich in a way that was so characteristic of him. 

What was it Roman had said? He wasn’t some bread roll, but the main course? Janus had laughed when he heard it. Roman didn’t know how right he was.

But Janus knew. He knew the taste of steak that always accompanied Roman’s lies. He knew what no one else got to know.

And he loved it.

Besides, Roman represented a big portion of Thomas’s pride, so Janus figured that a little humility would do him some good. If Thomas got overconfident, people might begin to resent him. In a perfect world, Thomas could do as he pleased without worrying about the opinions of others, but it was far from a perfect world. If Thomas had to play by the rules, he should at least do it in the way that would be most beneficial to him.

And people were so much easier to manipulate when they liked you.

So, no. Janus would not be interfering with Roman’s pathetic little display. He didn’t care about Roman in the slightest, and he refused to deprive himself of any more lies. It just wasn’t happening. Absolutely not, out of the question, no way.

* * *

In the end, there was only one thing that could get Janus to act.

Remus.

Janus wasn’t surprised when Remus burst into his room unannounced. It happened more regularly than one might suspect, and Janus didn’t even flinch when Remus shoved his greasy face in between Janus and the political theory book he had been studying.

“Whatcha reading, Dee Dee?” Remus asked cheerfully, his eyes shining bright with manic energy.

“Hello, Remus, dear,” Janus sighed. “ _Utopia_ by Thomas More, if you’re truly interested.”

Remus scrunched his face up in disgust. “Sounds gross.”

Janus chuckled. Of course Remus would find political theory, of all things, gross.

“Yes, well, More’s ideas are entirely absurd,” Janus informed Remus. “The ‘utopia’ he laid out could never truly exist the way people are.”

Remus plopped himself down in a chair next to Janus’s desk, leaning on the desk on his elbows, his chin rested in his hands. He stared at Janus with rapt attention.

“I mean, really, even if a group of people could become as economically stable as More described, does he really think people would be satisfied? He suggested that people wouldn’t even need to lock their doors! It’s completely ridiculous! People are naturally selfish, and will always want more than they need.”

He glanced over at Remus, whose eyes were starting to glaze over. He needed to wrap it up before he lost Remus entirely.

“Of course, there’s always the chance he was writing satirically, which naturally changes everything.”

Remus snapped back to attention, nodding in faux seriousness. “Naturally.”

Janus laughed. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, closing his book and setting it aside for later. 

“Oh, so it’s pleasure you want?” Remus asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I can do pleasure.”

“Shut up,” Janus said, chuckling softly. “What do you want?”

“There are a lot of things I want,” Remus said with a smirk, leaning in toward Janus. “Starting with your clothes on the–”

“Oh my god, actually shut up,” Janus laughed, shoving Remus away from him, though he felt the slightest bit of heat rise to his face. 

“Fine, if you want to be boring about it,” Remus huffed, but there were obviously no hard feelings behind his words. 

Janus smiled, and he didn’t mind admitting that he was just the slightest bit fond of the darker creativity. The two weren’t family. They didn’t try to pretend that, not anymore. But they were all each other had, and they clung to each other more than either of them wanted to admit.

“Okay, let’s try this again, shall we?” Janus asked, and Remus nodded, an innocent look on his face. “Is there a specific reason you came in here today to talk to me that is not… inappropriate?”

Remus frowned. “If it’s not inappropriate, is it really worth talking about?”

“In many cases, no, actually,” Janus lied. “So is there?”

Remus blinked at Janus a few times, seemingly at loss, before jumping excitedly to his feet. “Yes! There is!”

Well that was new. Oftentimes Remus would spend hours at a time in Janus’s room purely to bother him, with no specific purpose in mind. 

Janus raised a quizzical eyebrow, waiting for the other side to elaborate, but he did no such thing. Instead he started bouncing around with a characteristic energy. Janus watched amusedly as Remus wandered aimlessly around his room, cracking his fingers repeatedly, a nervous tick of his.

Janus was pretty sure Remus had ADHD, or something to that effect. His thoughts seemed to race a mile per minute, and he got distracted easily, often forgetting what he was even doing. 

Janus would deny to the day he died that he found that endearing.

“Remus,” Janus prompted gently.

Remus snapped his head around to look at him, and Janus winced as his head seemed to twist just a little bit more than it should’ve been able to.

“What?”

“You wanted to talk to me about something,” Janus reminded.

“Oh.” Remus looked puzzled. “What was it?”

Janus bit back a soft chuckle. “I don’t wish I knew.”

Remus thought hard for a second. “Was it about how dolphins are actually really cool because they’ll like, murder their own young and stuff?”

Janus tried very hard to keep a straight face (an impossible feat on any day, but it was even harder than normal with Remus spouting stuff like that). “I’m not sure,” he said smoothly. “Maybe.”

Remus blinked slowly, one eye slightly delayed. “No. That wasn’t it,” he decided. “We should totally talk about that sometime, though. Dolphins are wicked cool.”

Janus nodded agreeably. It would come back to Remus eventually. He would just have to wait.

He turned back to his book, though he watched Remus out of the corner of his eye. The other side flopped on his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling for a few seconds. Suddenly his eyes lit up, and he kicked off his shoes before sitting up and contorting his legs unnaturally so that he could suck on his toes. Janus stared for a moment, giving his brain a second to wrap around the weirdness of it, then went back to reading. He was used to Remus’s antics, but that didn’t make them any less nauseating.

Janus had gotten through a couple pages when Remus suddenly spit his foot out of his mouth with an excited gasp. “Roman!” he exclaimed.

Janus set down his book again. “Roman?” he questioned.

“Roman!” Remus affirmed. “I knew there was something important!”

Janus sighed. He liked talking to Remus, but he didn’t want to talk about Roman. He didn’t even like Roman. And Roman definitely didn’t like him.

“Well, what about him?”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Remus said.

“Well I could’ve told you that,” Janus grumbled. 

“No like, something gross wrong,” Remus said, making a face. “I think he’s like, sad, or something.”

Oh. Janus blinked a few times. “You hate your brother,” he pointed out helpfully.

“Well yeah,” Remus huffed, “but that doesn’t mean I want him to be sad. He’s way less fun to kill when he gets all mopey and stuff. When it gets really bad, he won’t even fight back!”

Okay, well that was a little concerning. It wouldn’t do Thomas any good to have a defeatist ego. He needed to be willing to stand up for himself.

“That doesn’t make sense, I suppose,” he conceded. “But what do you want me to do about it?”

“I dunno,” Remus shrugged. “Tell the puffball or something. He seems to like you okay.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

Remus barked out a laugh. “Daddy is terrified of me,” he said with a wicked grin.

“Well why not Logan, then?”

Remus snorted. “As if that nerd would even get it. He doesn’t do the whole emotions thing.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” Janus muttered, but let it go. “Fine, then. Well what about–”

Janus froze, the name stuck on the tip of his tongue. Remus bit his lip and looked away. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them for a few long seconds, and Janus was torn. Part of him was overcome with the sudden urge to throw Remus out and tell him to never come back. Maybe that way he could prevent the pain he would feel when Remus inevitably left him, too.

But the more selfish part of him wanted to do everything he could to help Remus, to pretend they were happy like they used to be.

Well. Janus was nothing if not selfish.

“I won’t take care of it,” he said abruptly, breaking the sharp silence between them.

Remus snapped his head up to look at him, excitement shining in his eyes. “Really?”

Janus gave him an affirming nod, and Remus squealed loudly. “Thank you, Dee!” he said, crushing Janus in a surprisingly chaste hug. “Let me know if I can ever… repay you,” he whispered into Janus’s ear as he squeezed him tightly.

Ah. There it was.

Janus shoved Remus away with a laugh, his face burning slightly at the suggestive words. “That definitely _will_ be necessary.” 

“Then I look forward to it,” Remus said with a wink.

Janus choked, and then scowled. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Remus laughed, striking a ridiculous pose. “Come on, snakey boy. Don’t pretend you don’t like what you see.”

“I’ll pretend all I want, thank you very much,” Janus huffed, before immediately realizing his mistake.

Remus cackled, but mercifully decided to leave Janus alone. “Love ya too, Dee!” he called as he waltzed out the door.

Janus didn’t go anywhere for a while after that.

He had to give the human side of his face time to calm down.

* * *

Janus stared at the sword pointed at his face with a disappointed sigh. “Honestly, Roman, I expected better from you.”

He hadn’t, really. He wasn’t even really sure why he was here. He should’ve taken Remus’s advice and just mentioned to Patton that something was wrong, but instead here he was, about to be impaled.

Curse his do-gooder heart.

“What do you want, you villain?” Roman demanded, his sword never wavering.

“Yes, because obviously I would only come to talk to you for purely nefarious reasons,” Janus drawled.

Roman stared him down. “Well, wouldn’t you?” he asked, not at all swayed.

“Undoubtedly so,” Janus said. “By the way, I absolutely _adore_ your room.”

Roman glanced around him. “Oh, thank you! I worked hard on it, you know– Hey!”

While Roman had been distracted, Janus had plucked his sword from his hands, and was now pointing it back at him. Roman, now defenseless, held his hands up in surrender.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” Janus smirked. 

“You– you don’t even know how to use that,” Roman guessed. He looked terribly nervous.

Janus stepped closer, pressing the sword tip gently to Roman’s throat. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said. “I live with your brother.”

Roman gulped loudly, his eyes locked on the sword placed tantalizingly close to his throat. “So I was right, then,” he said carefully, contempt clear in his voice. “You were here on villainous business after all.”

And with that, any satisfaction Janus had found from threatening Roman instantly vanished. He let the sword linger for just a moment longer before dropping his arm listlessly to his side and backing off. 

“Believe it or not, Roman, I’m not always planning some villainous scheme,” he said irritably, the truth mild enough not to cause any distress.

“I don’t believe it,” Roman said immediately, and Janus scowled. 

“Fine then,” he spat. “See if I care.” He marched to the door. Forget it. Roman didn’t deserve his help. If Remus wanted Roman to be okay, he could deal with it himself.

“Wait!”

Janus paused by the door. “What is it?”

Roman faltered. “My– my sword. You still have my sword.”

Janus glanced down. Oh. So he did. He grinned evilly. “Well that’s unfortunate for you, isn’t it?”

Roman bit his lip, and Janus was surprised by just how upset he looked. “Give it back,” he said. “Please,” he added quietly.

Now that was interesting. Roman had never said please to Janus in his entire life. Janus examined the sword. It was nice, sure, but didn’t seem particularly special. “Why?” he asked, genuinely curious. “You can always make another one, can’t you?”

Roman nodded distractedly, but he didn’t seem at all reassured. “Yes of course, but that one… that one’s special.”

Janus couldn’t help a small grin. He had just stumbled upon instant leverage.

“I _won’t_ give it back,” he said carefully, making sure the lie was obvious, “if you’ll hear me out.”

Roman didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded. 

“Excellent.” Janus strode briskly over to Roman’s bed and sat down, laying the sword gently across his lap. Roman remained standing a safe distance away, his arms crossed as he eyed Janus warily.

“So what is it?” he asked finally.

Janus took his time, running his fingers lightly along the edge of Roman’s sword, admiring its fine quality. It really was in excellent condition. 

Finally, he looked up at Roman, who was looking increasingly anxious. “A certain side came to me recently expressing concern over your well-being,” Janus explained.

Roman frowned. “What? Who did that? Was it Patton? I bet it was Patton.”

Janus waved a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter who it was. The point is, I am here purely at their request. _I_ want to be here, and _you_ want me here, but I’m here anyway.”

Roman nodded, looking a little confused. “Right. You’re here. So…?”

Janus sighed. This might take a while. “Roman, you are not insecure,” he said simply. 

Roman broke into nervous laughter. “W-what? Insecure? I’m not insecure. Did someone say that I’m insecure? ‘Cause I’m not.”

Janus rolled his eyes. Truly a terrible liar. He didn’t need the rich taste of steak to cue him in.

“Please, Roman, it’s not obvious, so do keep pretending. It’ll totally help.”

“I don’t have to admit anything,” Roman said defensively. “Not to the likes of you.”

“Of course you don’t. I already know.”

Roman scowled. “Well, so what? That’s none of your business either way.”

“I’m not inclined to agree. Unfortunately for me, though, there are other people who don’t care about you, so I’m here for them,” Janus said.

“Plus,” he added, narrowing his eyes at the creative side, “I hear you’ve been acting even more depressed than usual lately. You’re a lot of Thomas’s pride, so that can’t be good for him.”

“Oh, so you’re here to what, cheer me up? That’s rich,” Roman snorted disbelievingly.

In retrospect, Roman was probably right (though Janus would rather die than admit it to his face). Janus bit back a groan. He really should’ve just gotten Patton.

“Look, Roman,” Janus said. “I know how you feel about me, so let me just say my piece and I’ll be done. You know how I feel about lying. It _can’t_ be used in so many helpful and beneficial ways. But lately I’ve come to realize that it can be used in ways that are only harmful.” 

Janus didn’t even realize when he slipped into telling the truth, earnestness pouring from him in a way that he rarely, if ever, experienced. He wasn’t sure why he was so dead set on convincing Roman all of the sudden. Maybe he was just thinking of how grateful Remus would be. Maybe he wanted to make sure Roman wasn’t inadvertently hurting Thomas. Maybe he just wanted to prove Roman wrong about him.

Maybe he was tired of watching the lights, the ones who were supposed to be okay, supposed to be _good_ , twisting up beautiful lies and using them to break themselves apart.

And maybe, just maybe, there was another reason entirely.

“If you continue to hide, it will only hurt you worse,” Janus said, ignoring the bitter taste that he had unfortunately started to grow used to. “You need to let the others in, or you’re going to fall hard, and it’ll just be that much harder to pick yourself back up.”

Janus suddenly realized with mild alarm that Roman was shaking. Emotions danced across his face, fear and distrust clashing painfully. Standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, hunched over on himself, Janus couldn’t help but think that Roman looked terribly vulnerable.

“Why– why are you doing this?” Roman asked, his voice cracking. “You’re evil! All you do is manipulate and lie!”

Janus shook his head slowly. “Not this time.”

That didn’t help in the slightest. “No! I can’t listen to a word you say! This is a trick, I know it. I bet Patton didn’t even send you! You’re just trying to make me feel worse about myself, aren’t you? Well, joke’s on you, Deceit! Nothing you could say could make me hate myself more than I already do!”

The admission tore itself out of Roman’s throat, sharp and painful, hanging heavily in the air between them. Janus stared in shock at Roman, who looked on the verge of tears. Roman stared back, his eyes fierce with anger but dark with pain.

And that’s when Janus realized something.

Janus didn’t like Roman, and Roman didn’t like Janus.

But _Roman_ didn’t like Roman, and Janus didn’t like that, either.

“Just go,” Roman said after a moment, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. “You got what you wanted, so just go. Take the sword, I don’t care anymore.”

Janus was shocked. Did Roman really think Janus would just leave him after an admission like that?

He realized suddenly that yes, he really did.

A sick feeling came over him. He had known that the others thought he was bad. _He_ knew that he was bad. But surely he wasn’t as bad as that. Right?

He approached Roman slowly, trying not to give the other side any reason for alarm. Gently, very gently, he offered the sword to Roman hilt first.

“Do you want to stab me?” he offered. “It might make you feel better.”

Roman stared at him like he was crazy, which, well, fair. But Janus had been living with Remus long enough that such injuries, while not fun, were fairly inconsequential for him by now.

Gingerly, Roman took the sword from Janus. He stared at it for a long moment, his face full of indecision. Janus gulped as light glinted off the edge of the sharp blade, and for a moment he wondered if giving something so sharp to someone who had just admitted to hating himself had been such a good idea after all.

But in the end, Roman didn’t stab Janus, and he didn’t stab anything else, either. Instead, his grip on the sword loosened, and it clattered to the floor. Roman sank down next to it, burying his face in his hands as he started to cry.

“What more do you want from me?” he sobbed. “I don’t– I don’t understand.”

And Janus’s heart shattered.

Roman had been right. Roman had been right, just like everyone else. Everything Janus had done, every attempt to make things better, had only made things worse.

He must’ve been that bad after all.

The confirmation was staggering, but Janus couldn’t give himself time to focus on that. He had broken Roman, and that was bad. Really bad. So far, he had only continuously made things worse, but he couldn’t give up now. 

Roman needed him.

He quickly knelt down next to Roman and wrapped his arms around him in a gentle hug. Roman flinched upon contact. “Don’t touch me.”

“Pretend I’m someone else,” Janus ordered. “Close your eyes and pretend. I know you can do it, you’re creativity and we all have the same voice.”

Roman hesitated, but closed his eyes. After a second, he shakily asked, “Virgil?”

Janus flinched. Why did it have to be–?

“Yeah, Princey,” he said, effortlessly altering his voice to sound like Virgil’s. “It’s me. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Roman let out a shaky breath, which did absolutely nothing to relieve the tension in his shoulders. “I can’t do this anymore, Virge,” he said quietly. “It’s so hard.”

“I know,” Janus said, gripping his arms around Roman a little tighter. “God, Roman, I know. But you can do it. Me and Pat and Logan, we can help you.”

Roman’s shoulders shook slightly as he continued to cry. “I don’t deserve it,” he sobbed. “I’m not good enough. I don’t know why I even keep trying.”

“No, braveheart,” Janus said, his nickname for Roman slipping through by accident. Luckily Roman didn’t seem to notice his breach of character. “You deserve the world because you are _good_. You are so pure and brave and good, and you’re going to be okay.”

Janus didn’t know if the bitterness rising in his throat was from telling the truth or from the general horror of the situation. He didn’t know if it mattered.

“But Virgil, I–” Roman opened his eyes to protest, and Janus’s heart sank as Roman’s eyes locked onto him. “You,” he managed, immediately pulling himself away from Janus. 

“Stop messing with my head!” he cried, his hands reaching up to pull tightly at his hair. Janus watched wide-eyed as Roman broke down further.

“Roman, braveheart, I’m not trying to mess with you,” Janus said desperately. 

“You’re lying. You always lie!”

“I can tell the truth, Roman, I promise,” Janus said. “Your sash is red. Patton likes to bake cookies. Logan wears a tie. I don’t lie all the time.”

Roman eyed him distrustfully, his tears slowing slightly. “Just because you can tell the truth doesn’t mean that you will. I can’t trust a word you say.”

Janus was scared. He couldn’t remember ever being this scared before. It was as if Roman was a shattered vase, clearly broken, but still intact enough that you could see where the missing pieces were supposed to go. Janus kept trying to pick up the pieces and fit them back in where they belonged, but he was clumsy and nervous, and every time he tried, he accidentally dropped another piece, breaking it even more. 

He was scared that soon the pieces would be too small to pick up again.

“Roman, I don’t have any way to prove it, but I’m going to tell you the truth, okay? The complete truth about why I’m here.”

Roman looked uncertain, but curious. “Say what you have to say, knave. Then we’ll see.”

Janus nodded gratefully. At least Roman was giving him a chance.

“Patton didn’t send me here,” he began, and indignation sparked in Roman’s eyes, but Janus held up a hand before he could say anything. “Remus did.”

Roman’s mouth fell open, and he gaped at Janus. “W-what? Really?”

Janus nodded solemnly. “He had noticed that you were less excitable than usual. Something about you being, ah, ‘less fun to kill,’ this way.”

Bitterness tore sharply at his throat, but Janus ignored it. It was manageable for now.

Janus expected Roman to get angry at the news, maybe yell at him some more, but instead his gaze softened just slightly. 

“Did he really?” he asked quietly, and was that a glimmer of hope in his eyes?

“Yes,” Janus said. “He was worried about you.”

Roman fell silent, and Janus wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Roman reached out a careful hand and picked up his sword from where it had fallen to ground.

“Thank you for giving me my sword back.”

“Thank you for not stabbing me,” Janus replied with a sly grin. Roman huffed out a short breath of laughter at that.

“I’m not supposed to miss him,” Roman said after a moment, his gaze transfixed on his sword. 

Janus waited for a moment, but quickly realized that Roman wasn’t planning on continuing. “Says who?” he asked.

Roman looked surprised at that, then shrugged. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Patton, I guess? Or whoever came up with what’s right and wrong in the first place, so maybe society?”

“Screw society,” Janus said with such finality that Roman couldn’t help but burst into laughter, that rich laughter that reminded Janus so much of his lies. He immediately cut himself off though, looking guilty, and Janus was sad when it stopped.

“Everyone always says that he’s bad and I’m good, but if that’s true then why do I miss him so much and hate myself even more?” Roman asked miserably. “We always fight, all the time, because that’s what we’re supposed to do, but I just miss him.”

“It’s okay to miss him, braveheart,” Janus said softly. “He’s your brother.”

“No it’s not! I’m always pretending, pretending that I hate him, that I hate the dark sides, because I’m scared the others will notice otherwise, and what will they think of me then? What if I’m… corrupted, or something?

“I mean, look at me now,” he said unhappily. “Pouring out all my secrets to you, of all people. You’re probably just storing all this away for blackmail purposes or something.”

(Seriously, what was it with people and assuming he wanted to blackmail them?)

“Which I mean, shame on me, right?” Roman continued. “Fool me… god, how many times has it been now? You know what, forget it. This is stupid. I’m stupid. Just leave me alone.”

He placed his sword down carefully before pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them tightly, staring at the floor glumly. Janus wasn’t sure what Roman expected him to do. Just leave him there?

“Roman, you’re not stupid,” Janus said, swallowing down a rough cough. “And no, that is not an insult disguised as a compliment. It’s the truth.”

“Yeah?” Roman asked quietly. “Tell that to Logan.”

Janus sighed. Truthfully, there was only so much he could do. He had caught Roman in a vulnerable moment, but that didn’t mean that Roman was ever going to trust him. It made sense. Janus was bad, after all. He was all sharp edges, sharper even than Roman’s broken pieces. Roman needed the influence of those who were good, those who were safe and warm and soft to help him heal.

It was strange. At first he had been doing this for Remus, with the added bonus of helping Thomas. But now, all he could think about was making sure Roman was okay.

“You need to tell the others.”

Roman’s head snapped up, and he stared wide-eyed at Janus. “I can’t do that!” he hissed. “They’ll hate me!”

“Did you hate Patton when he told you about his sadness?”

Roman narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“Answer the question, Roman.”

Roman gave Janus a glare, but complied. “Of course not! Patton is amazing, he doesn’t deserve to feel sad like that for no reason.”

Janus gave him a pointed look.

Roman huffed in frustration. “Yeah, okay, but like… I’m _not_ amazing. And– and I do deserve to feel bad.”

Janus was disheartened when there was no subsequent wave of meaty goodness, even though he hadn’t expected it by this point. Still, it was worrisome to see just how bad Roman had gotten without anyone noticing.

Well, someone had noticed. 

It just hadn’t been any of the lights.

Janus held out his hands in a silent invitation, but Roman made no move to accept it. Janus nodded shortly and retracted his hands.

“Look, Roman,” he said. “I’m not going to tell the others. It’s not my business what goes on between you and them. But you should seriously consider it. They all really care about you. They’re– they’re your family. And they’ll accept you no matter what.”

Roman shrugged, avoiding Janus’s gaze. “I’ll think about it.”

It was probably the best Janus could hope for. Especially since he was well past his truth-telling limit, and he needed to get out of there before something went terribly wrong. He pushed himself to his feet slowly, trying to limit the nausea that accompanied sudden movement. 

“I hope you do,” he said to Roman. He turned and started to leave, but he paused in the doorway, a sudden thought crossing his mind.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s so special about that sword?”

Roman looked surprised at the question, and he glanced down at the sword by his side. A fond smile crossed his face. “It’s the sword I had when we split. It reminds me of him.”

Ah. What a sickeningly sweet sentiment. 

Janus was surprised by how warm the idea made him feel. “That’s… that’s really nice,” he said.

Then he made his way to his room as quickly as possible so he could throw up in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tysm for reading, I would greatly appreciate any thoughts you have :)
> 
> (I got some taste predictions on the last chapter... clearly at least one of them was right, but what about the others? Only time will tell...)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the shortest and maybe my least favorite, but it's pretty important, so... yeah.
> 
> TW for... angst? Just like, lots of angst. Also like, self-deprecation.
> 
> I wouldn't go so far as to say that Virgil is unsympathetic in this story, but he's definitely... not the best for a bit. So there's that for a warning too, I guess.

Janus told himself that he was happy when Roman’s lies faded from the mindscape.

He knew that he should’ve been happy. That’s what he had been going for, right? For Roman to stop hiding? Now the lights were okay, they were good like they were supposed to be.

Well, most of them, anyway.

Only one taste lingered, one that Janus knew well, one that he couldn’t bear to part with.

Virgil’s. 

Virgil was different from the other lights, but that was no surprise to anyone. Virgil had always been different.

But specifically, Virgil was different in the way he lied. He didn’t often tell overt lies, or lies of commission, as Logan would say. No, Virgil told the biggest lie of omission that Janus had ever seen, strong enough that there was a constant taste of lies in the air.

Janus smiled every time he tasted Virgil’s lies. Virgil always tasted like warm, freshly baked bread. Virgil tasted like home.

But something was wrong. Even as Roman’s lies had faded, Virgil’s had increased. Janus couldn’t help but be worried.

He hadn’t been spying on the lights when Roman’s confession had happened, so he wasn’t sure how the others had taken it. In the time since then, though, he had spied on them many times, and he was definitely concerned.

The three original lights all seemed fine. Patton was as cheerful as ever, though he no longer hid it when he wasn’t. Logan was still reserved, but he no longer denied having feelings entirely.

And Roman seemed happier now, if a little anxious. Janus wasn’t sure what exactly he had told the others, but clearly it had helped. 

(Janus smiled fondly as he remembered Remus coming to him later, tackling him in a hug and giving him an enthusiastic “Thank you!”)

But even though the three of them seemed okay, there was a tense, uneasy air lingering in the mindscape, and Janus was almost entirely sure it had something to do with the fact that Virgil was missing. Janus hadn’t seen him in days. But even though it was causing all of them at least some degree of distress, most particularly Roman, they never actually talked about it. It was incredibly annoying. How was Janus supposed to figure out what was going on if they didn’t say anything?

After a long day of spying, Janus trudged back to his room, disgruntled. It was like they were purposefully trying to keep him from finding out what had happened. 

He collapsed onto his bed, absolutely exhausted. As he curled up under his blankets, he breathed in a delicious mouthful of bread. He smiled faintly, then frowned. He shouldn’t be able to taste it so strongly from here. Something had to be wrong.

He fell asleep thinking about Virgil.

* * *

He was leaving. He was leaving and he was never going to come back. He didn’t like them anymore, he couldn’t stand them anymore, he had found a new family. He was leaving, and there was nothing Janus could do to stop him.

But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

He raced through the hallways. He had to find him, he had to stop him before it was too late!

There he was. Hovering in the doorway between light and dark. It was so bright over there, so dark here. They were always in the dark, always hidden, but at least they were never alone.

They had each other.

Or at least, Janus had thought so.

“Wait!” he cried, skidding to a halt a few feet away. “Don’t go!”

Virgil turned, but Janus couldn’t see his face. The light from the other side of the doorway cast him into shadows, and Janus thought that was horribly unfair. This might be the last chance he got to see him, and he couldn’t even see his face. Did the lights really have to take that from him, too?

“Don’t go,” he said again. Desperate. Pleading. Pathetic.

“I can’t stay. Not anymore.”

“Yes you can!” Janus said insistently. “You belong here! You belong with us!

“We need you!”

Janus suddenly doubled over, surprise rippling through him as the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted rose up in his throat. What…? What could that be from? Neither of their lies tasted like that. And Janus hadn’t been lying anyway!

Janus felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see Virgil crouched in front of him, a concerned look in his warm, brown eyes.

“Woah, there. What happened? You okay?”

Janus smiled faintly. At least he still cared. 

“I’m not fine,” he said dismissively. Wherever this new taste was coming from was a mystery for another time.

Virgil nodded, his hand giving Janus’s shoulder a tight squeeze, before standing up and starting to turn.

Panic shot through Janus, and he yelped in a horribly undignified way. Was he seriously going to leave just like that?

“No, wait! I _am_ fine! You should stay!”

Annoyance flickered across Virgil’s face. “Ugh, you always do this! I can never understand you and I hate it! I hate you!”

Janus’s heart sank. He didn’t even taste a hint of a lie. Did Virgil really hate him so much? Sure, there had been misunderstandings at times, but he thought that they were okay. The others had learned how to decipher his twisted speech. Had he been wrong?

Was it his fault that Virgil was leaving?

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, ignoring as another mysterious wave of nausea rolled through him. “I didn’t know.”

Virgil took a step back, anger flashing in his eyes, and Janus tried very hard not to whimper. “So that means you did know? That you’re not sorry?” he challenged.

Janus groaned in frustration. No, he was messing things up! Virgil was going to leave and it would be Janus’s fault!

“No! That’s not– that’s not what I–” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was the master of manipulation, made to get others to believe what he wanted them to.

So why couldn’t he manage the one thing that mattered the most?

“I’m sick of it,” Virgil seethed. “I’m sick of never knowing what to believe. I’m sick of Remus and his disgusting brain, and I’m sick of you!”

Janus felt like he was going to cry. He wasn’t lying. How could all of that be true? After everything they had been through together, how could he say that?

“So, yeah, Janus. I’m leaving. I’m going over to the lights, because they’re wonderful and amazing and _good_! And they like me and they care about me! They never lie to me or attack me just for fun, and they never have to hide in the dark like a bunch of freaks!

“They’re not bad like you!”

Virgil took another step back.“I don’t know why they decided to accept me, but I’m not missing this opportunity. This way, I get to help Thomas. I can do something good for once!”

“You can do that from here! You don’t have to go! Please, we want you to stay, we need you to stay!”

Bitterness tore through his throat, and Janus coughed on the sharp taste. That again. Why? He was only telling the truth!

He wondered the last time he had told such an important truth.

Janus looked up to see Virgil’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Why do you keep doing that? Are you sick or something?”

Janus shook his head, ignoring the question. “I mean it. Us dark sides gotta have each others’ backs, right? We can get through this together, just like we always have.”

Virgil’s face twisted in anger. “I’m not one of you. Not anymore.”

Janus would’ve given anything to taste that familiar warm taste of a lie, but there was nothing.

“Please,” he whispered. “We love you.”

Before immediately keeling over, barely stopping himself from vomiting right there in the hallway. It was so horrible, he couldn’t stand it.

“Stop that!” he heard. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but stop it! I’m not falling for your tricks, not anymore! I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me!”

Janus heard footsteps, and he looked up to see Virgil walking away. “Wait!”

Virgil paused in the doorway, and in the light, Janus could see those new purple patches adorning his jacket. They were loud, bright.

Threatening.

“Forget it. I’m out of here. My family is waiting for me.”

Janus felt his heart break. “I thought we were your family.”

“You thought wrong.”

And with that, Virgil stepped into the light. The door swung closed behind him, seemingly in slow motion, and Janus screamed, ignoring the burning in his throat and rushing to the door, slamming into it just as it shut for good.

“Virgil!”

The hallway fell into darkness, and Janus realized bitterly that Virgil had been right. It was always so dark here.

He pounded against the door fruitlessly. This was before. Back when the lines were drawn more clearly. Back when it was harder to go back and forth. Back when Janus had little connection to the lights at all. 

Back before he even knew what their lies tasted like.

His pounding on the door weakened, and he gave up, his body shaking with soft sobs. He slumped down onto the ground, resting his head against the unforgiving door.

“Please, Virgil,” he whispered. “We can still fix it. We can be good to you, better than anything they can do. Come back.

“We need you. We care about you. We love you.”

And with each quiet admission, his nausea worsened, until he finally did throw up. This only made him cry harder, his rough sobs exacerbating the bitterness in his throat. His vision was blurry through his tears, and pretty soon, he couldn’t see anything at all.

* * *

Janus opened his eyes.

He was vaguely aware of that familiar burning in his mouth, an aftertaste of the dream. He sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes blearily.

He hadn’t had that dream in a while, but he was intimately familiar with it anyway. The memory of that day was seared into his brain, refusing to be forgotten.

He remembered when Remus had found him, curled up in the hallway by the door, sitting in his own vomit and absolutely miserable. It was the only time Janus had ever seen Remus cry.

(And no matter how hard he tried, Janus never could get rid of the stain on the floor.)

For days afterward Janus had been unable to eat, partially from grief and partially from the unending nausea that he couldn’t figure out how to get rid of. With Virgil gone and the light side barred off, there were essentially no lies in the air. Remus rarely, if ever, lied. It just wasn’t his style. But he was beside himself with worry, and he tried increasingly drastic and violent exhibitions to try to cheer Janus up.

But it hadn’t worked. Nothing had worked.

Finally, _finally_ , they had been able to figure out the problem. Remus had told him lie after lie, and Janus had eaten them up gratefully until the bitter taste of the truth had finally disappeared. Janus had finally been able to get a hold of himself, and he had reverted back to his cool, mysterious self, hiding his emotions carefully behind a mask of lies.

And they never spoke of it again.

Now, sitting alone in his room with the taste of Virgil’s lies drifting around him, Janus knew what he had to do.

Virgil had been right. Janus knew that now. Virgil had been right to leave, to join the lights. Virgil had been right that the lights were good, and Janus was bad.

But while Virgil didn’t belong with the dark sides anymore, he didn’t seem to really believe that he belonged with the light sides either. He still hadn’t told them about his past because he was afraid of how they would react, and it was killing him. And it broke Janus’s heart to watch. 

Virgil deserved a family that would love him and accept him, no matter what.

And if Janus couldn’t be that for him? Well, that was fine.

But someone needed to be. Even if it was the lights that Janus had despised for so long. 

Something was wrong with Virgil. Something was wrong, and no amount of spying had helped Janus figure out what, so there was really only one thing left to do.

It was time to confront Virgil himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, there's the lead-up to the chapter you were probably expecting haha
> 
> Tysm for your comments :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virgil continues to be not the best to our snek boi, and Janus is just getting worse, which pretty much covers it for any warnings.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

Janus took a deep breath as he stood outside of Virgil’s door. He could do this.

He raised a hand to push the door open, his fingers resting gently on the knob. But then in a flash of panic, he suddenly found himself walking quickly in the opposite direction. Nope. He couldn’t do this. No way.

Halfway down the hallway, he stopped. He turned back and walked up to Virgil’s door.

He was the master of manipulation, lord of the lies. He could do this. He had to do this.

(It might actually kill him if he succeeded and lost Virgil’s lies forever, but it would be worth it.)

He plastered a sly grin onto his face, and pushed the door open.

Things went wrong pretty much immediately.

“Patton, I told you I don’t want to talk right now,” a rough voice called, and Janus’s heart skipped a beat. Even if his tone was annoyed, it was still probably the least hate-filled Janus had heard that voice directed toward him in a long time.

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not Patton, isn’t it?”

Virgil jumped up, twirling around wildly. His sharp glare seemed to bore a hole through Janus. “Get out.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Janus said sarcastically. “Was I not wanted at this exact second?”

Virgil scowled, and all the sudden he was marching toward Janus angrily. He grabbed him by his shoulders and roughly turned him around, literally pushing him out the door.

“Seriously, J– Deceit. What will the others think if they see you here?”

“Probably that I burst into your room uninvited like I did with all the rest of them,” Janus speculated.

Virgil froze, his fingers digging into Janus’s shoulders tightly. “What did you do to them?” he growled.

“Nothing, and I resent the question,” Janus said back, which was clearly a mistake. He should’ve known that Virgil would expect him to speak only in lies. Virgil turned him back around, pure hate radiating from his gaze. “What did you do?” he snarled.

“Relax, my little stormcloud,” Janus said with an easy grin. “I _absolutely_ hurt your little friends.”

Virgil stepped back, relief briefly flashing across his face before it morphed quickly back into his characteristic scowl. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“Would you prefer my big stormcloud? My, how you’ve grown,” Janus fawned, placing a hand over his heart.

“There is nothing I would hate more than for you to call me that.”

Janus chuckled. “Understood. So, Virgil–”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“What?” Janus asked, caught off guard. He had called Virgil by his name several times since he had left, and he had never seemed to mind all that much before. But Virgil continued to fix him with that vicious glare.

“Only my family gets to call me that.”

Janus swallowed hard. Oh. 

(He thought back to the day Virgil had told them. He had been so shy, but so proud. Had they been his family then?)

Janus recovered quickly. If he was to get Virgil to do what he wanted, he had to play his part.

“Well then,” he said, his voice strictly professional. “What should I call you?”

Virgil hesitated. “If you have to call me anything at all, call me Anxiety,” he decided, and oh, if that didn’t hurt. But Janus nodded curtly.

“Well then, _Anxiety_ , you’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

“Not really, actually,” Virgil said. “I mostly just wish you weren’t.”

Virgil attempted to start pushing him out the door again, but Janus planted his feet firmly against the ground, refusing to budge. “Sorry, my sweet little Anxiety. You _can_ get rid of me that easily.”

Virgil gave up, crossing his arms in front of him angrily. “Fine, then,” he spat. “What do you want?”

Janus smiled, reaching a hand up to floof Virgil’s hair. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he purred, removing his hand quickly as Virgil hissed, baring his teeth at him. “Why don’t we sit down?” he asked, whisking past Virgil and settling down on Virgil’s bed, just as he had done a hundred times before. Though Virgil’s room had relocated after he had left, it looked almost exactly the same, save for a few new mementos from the lights, and Janus would’ve given anything for Virgil to come sit next to him on the bed, just like old times.

But Virgil did no such thing. Instead, he stood in the middle of the room, arms still crossed, bristling like a porcupine. “I’d rather stand,” he ground out.

Janus shrugged agreeably. “Your loss,” he said. He took the opportunity to stretch himself out comfortably on Virgil’s bed, smirking when he heard Virgil’s low growl. He took off his hat and began twirling it on a finger above him.

“So,” he began conversationally, “anything interesting happen in the light side recently? Any… confessions?”

Virgil jumped a little. “What do you know?” he asked suspiciously.

Janus smirked. “I know a lot of things, Anxiety, but why should I tell you? You won’t believe me anyway.”

Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes. “You got that right,” he muttered.

Janus ignored the slight pang of sadness in his heart. “You know, if some people have been, say, divulging secrets, especially if they’ve been well-received, wouldn’t you think it would be a good time for other secrets to come out as well?” he asked.

“Don’t say another word,” Virgil hissed. “My secrets are my own, so shut up!”

“Oh dear, did you think I was implying something?” Janus asked innocently. “That certainly wasn’t my intention.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Janus sighed. Sometimes this entire process was just so tiring. Couldn’t he just say that Virgil needed to tell the others and have Virgil just like… listen to him? No?

So be it.

“Ah, darn, you caught me,” Janus said ruefully, throwing his hat up into the air and catching it again. “You’ve thwarted my evil scheme. I suppose it’s back to the drawing board for me, then.”

Virgil scowled. “Look, is there a point to this, or–?”

“Of course not,” Janus drawled. “No point at all. I just think you _shouldn’t_ consider some of the things that have been going on lately.”

He finally sat up so he could look Virgil in the eye, quickly replacing his hat. “I _don’t_ know all about secrets, Anxiety. I _don’t_ know about lies, and I _don’t_ know who’s been telling them.”

“My secrets are none of your business,” Virgil snapped.

And well, if that wasn’t interesting.

Patton not telling the other light sides when he was sad wasn’t Janus’s business.

Logan not telling the other light sides that he had emotions wasn’t Janus’s business.

Roman not telling the other light sides that he hated himself and missed his brother wasn’t Janus’s business.

But if the sudden taste of bread in the air was anything to go by, whatever Virgil was hiding certainly _was_ Janus’s business.

Janus had been positive that Virgil’s secret was that he had been a dark side in the past, something he knew none of the other lights knew. Was that Janus’s business because he was a dark side? Or was there more to it than that?

He latched onto the information greedily. “Really? Because my internal lie detector says otherwise.”

Virgil immediately clamped his mouth shut. Virgil knew that Janus had a way to detect lies, but he didn’t know how. Janus had never told him before because it was more fun that way. But clearly, he didn’t trust himself to say anything in Janus’s presence, which only confirmed Janus’s suspicions.

Janus grinned, standing up from the bed and stepping toward Virgil, who immediately stepped back.

“What are you hiding from me, my little Anxiety?” Janus asked sweetly, taking another step toward his old friend.

Virgil just shook his head, stepping back again. As Janus continued to advance, Virgil continued to back up, until his back was against the wall. He stared at Janus, looking almost afraid as Janus leaned in even closer.

Janus reached a hand up, running his thumb gently along Virgil’s cheek. “Come now, my beautiful little stormcloud. You can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Watch me,” Virgil spat, pushing Janus roughly away. “And I told you not to call me that!”

“My apologies,” Janus said unapologetically. “Won’t happen again.”

Virgil frowned. “Get out of my room,” he ordered.

“Okay,” Janus said, not moving an inch.

Virgil looked like he might actually scream. “What do you want from me?”

 _I just want you to be happy_ , Janus thought, but didn’t say. He knew how well that would go over.

“Have the other lights been telling secrets lately?” Janus asked abruptly.

Virgil sighed. “I’m going to go ahead and say yes, since I’m assuming you already know. So what?”

“How has that gone?” Janus asked in a disinterested voice, though he was genuinely curious. If he had encouraged anyone to spill and it hadn’t been optimal, well… 

Well, nothing. It’s not like he would feel bad or anything. Why would he feel bad? He _was_ bad.

“Great,” Virgil said bitterly. “It’s all been great. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Janus paused. It _was_ what he wanted to hear, but certainly not what he wanted to taste. The taste of bread was faint, so it wasn’t a complete lie, but Virgil was still hiding something.

“Something did go wrong then,” Janus said, fixing Virgil with a cool stare. 

Virgil groaned, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “No… well, not exactly. It’s really complicated, okay? I have a lot to think about, and– and I still don’t have to tell you anything! Why are you still here, you– you snake!”

Janus brought his hands together in a loud clap, and Virgil jumped. Janus smirked, before bringing his hands together again, and then once more in a slow applause. “Very original, my little stormcloud,” he said, chuckling when Virgil glared at him for the nickname. “I certainly have never been called a snake, what I literally am, before.”

“Creativity’s not my strong suit, okay? That’s–” Virgil stopped suddenly, his face darkening. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Another lie. Janus’s heart dropped into his stomach. Had something happened between Virgil and Roman?

Was it his fault?

“Fine,” Janus said. “Don’t tell me. I don’t care. But tell me this,” he said, once again stepping in closer, purposefully invading Virgil’s space.

“Why are you hiding?”

Virgil glowered at him. “I have nothing to say to you.”

And Janus understood that, really he did. There was no connection between them, not anymore. Not after everything. But he was still a person, even if he was a bad one, and he wanted his question answered.

“I’m serious, Anxiety,” he snapped. “I _don’t_ get why you won’t talk to me, but why are you hiding from them?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the door, toward the rest of the light side.

“They’re your family, aren’t they? I thought you were supposed to be able to trust your family! If they’re really so good, then why are you still hiding?”

It was all an act, of course. Janus faked the bitterness that creeped into his voice, the shortness of breath after his sudden outburst. It was all part of the lie. 

(Though at this point he wasn’t sure who he was lying to anymore.)

“It’s more complicated than you know, Janus!” Virgil shouted, and Janus stopped. 

Oh. Alright, then.

“I’m sure you’re right, _Anxiety_ ,” Janus seethed, a sick feeling of satisfaction rising in him when guilt flashed briefly across Virgil’s face. “I don’t know anything. I’m just a useless dark side. I’m just bad, right?” he asked, leaning in to glare directly into Virgil’s eyes.

He had always been so hurt, but all of the sudden he was angry. Sure, he had to call Virgil Anxiety, but Virgil could do whatever he wanted? Janus had always done everything he could for Virgil, and for what? To get abandoned? Why was that, again?

Oh right. 

Because Janus was _bad_. 

It wasn’t fair. Janus wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, but that would only prove them right, wouldn’t it? Was he proving them right when he grabbed a fistful of Virgil’s shirt? Was he proving them right when he sneered into his former friend’s face?

Or had they just been right all along?

Janus didn’t know what exactly he was planning. All he knew was that all those plans came screeching to a halt when he saw the look on Virgil’s face.

He was afraid.

Janus suddenly remembered why he had come in the first place, and shame coursed through him. He was supposed to be making Virgil happy, not scared. He messed up, just like he always messed up. His heart pounded in his chest, and with each beat he heard a single word echo throughout his mind.

_Bad, bad, bad._

He let go of Virgil’s shirt, his hand falling abruptly to his side. He should never have come. He didn’t belong here, he was meant to stay in the shadows. He didn’t even deserve to see Virgil anymore, let alone talk to him, interact with him, threaten him.

Virgil stared at him as he backed up, still frozen in fear.

“I’m sorry,” Janus breathed, then immediately flinched. “I mean– I’m _not_ sorry! Just– never mind. Think about telling the others. They can– they can help you, I promise.”

He kept backing up, jumping as he accidentally bumped into the doorframe. He gripped it tightly, pausing to give Virgil one last look.

“Secrets will only help you in the end, Virgil. Trust me. I’ve seen it all before.”

And then he turned and fled.

He raced to his room and threw himself onto his bed, sobbing. He couldn’t help it. Virgil had been right all along. 

Tears fell from his eyes, hot and heavy, and he wiped at them angrily. He didn’t deserve to cry over this. It wasn’t as if it was new information, after all. It was no surprise to anyone that he was completely despicable.

He had just never before realized just how bad it felt to be so bad.

After a few minutes, he forced himself to calm down. He was being completely ridiculous. His useless feelings didn’t matter anyway. There was no point dwelling on them.

Janus got up and made his way to a mirror, taking in his puffy eyes and dull scales. He splashed water on his face, willing the redness around his eyes to disappear. After taking care of his face, he snapped his fingers, replacing his damp gloves with a new pair. Finally, he reached up and adjusted his hat with a characteristic smirk. 

There. Now no one could tell the difference.

As if anyone would care to.

He allowed his smile to drop. Out of everything that had gone wrong, he mostly regretted that he hadn’t been able to get through to Virgil. There was no way the anxious side would actually take his advice. If anything, Janus had probably just made the situation, whatever it was, even worse.

He sighed, taking a second to breathe in deeply, cherishing the taste of warm, homemade bread. If there was anything good about this situation, it was that he at least still got to keep that.

Even if he didn’t deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close :)
> 
> Thank you so very much for your comments, I read them over and over again. It means a lot to me, so thanks!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :)
> 
> Not really any warnings you haven't seen before. Just like, a healthy amount of self hatred. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!

Janus was alone when it happened.

He wasn’t sure what it was at first. A barely perceptible shift in the air– but what was it?

He placed down the book he had been reading. What had alerted his senses like this?

He sighed, then breathed in deeply to replace his air. Halfway through his breath, he abruptly stopped. He couldn’t believe it.

Virgil’s lies were gone.

He gasped out heavily, suddenly remembering that yes, he did in fact need to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t ready! He couldn’t lose him just like that!

(He tried to remind himself that he had lost Virgil a long time ago. It didn’t help.)

He pushed himself to his feet, but immediately froze. What should he do? What was there to do? Could he get away with spying on the lights right now? He usually concealed himself before others entered the room, so it would be that much harder if they were all together right now.

It didn’t matter, he decided. He had to know.

Janus quickly left his room, only checking to make sure that he had his gloves and his hat before he left. He paused for a long moment in the door between light and dark. He knew that it would be better for everyone if he just stayed where he belonged, if he stopped messing with things that would be better left alone.

But he couldn’t help himself. If he were to never taste the lights’ lies again, he had to at least understand how it had all played out.

Janus stepped into the light.

This would be the last time, he promised himself. He would find out what he needed to know, then he would retreat into the darkness and they’d never have to deal with him ever again. As long as they were happy, then Thomas would be okay.

And that’s all that really mattered in the end.

He snuck silently down the hall, pausing as he heard voices coming from the common room. He got as close as he could without being seen, pressing his back against the wall just outside the door. 

“You guys really mean that?” 

Virgil.

“Of course, kiddo! You’re perfect just the way you are. Even if you took some wrong turns on the way, you ended up where you were supposed to be in the end.”

Janus’s eyes fluttered shut, an indescribable emotion washing over him. So Virgil really had told them, after all. And they had been just as accepting as Janus predicted. It was perfect. They were perfect.

So why did Janus feel so empty inside?

“Truthfully, Virgil, I can’t say that I’m surprised. I’ve had my suspicions for a while now, but I’m glad you’ve decided to open up to us on your own.” Janus could almost hear Logan’s smile. He wasn’t hiding his emotions, then. That was good. 

“Why would I be upset, after what I told you about Remus? Of course you still belong with us! You may be an emo nightmare, but you’re _our_ emo nightmare!”

Huh. So Roman really had told them about Remus. That was good, too.

“Actually, since you brought that up,” Virgil cut in quickly, “there’s something else.” Janus could hear the anxiety in his voice. “It’s about– it’s about the dark sides.”

And that’s when Janus blew it.

It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to find out Virgil’s secret, but Janus was so surprised that he legitimately squeaked out loud. It was completely embarrassing, and even worse, gave him away.

A slight pause. “Hello?” Patton called nervously.

Janus sighed. This was it, then.

He poked his head out through the doorway. He took in the room, noting Patton and Logan on one side of the couch with Virgil in between them. Roman sat on the floor a little to the side, facing the group, though he had turned around when Janus had entered. 

“Hello, my precious little light sides,” Janus grinned.

The reaction he got was… peculiar.

Patton looked surprised, but like… pleasantly surprised? His face quickly morphed into a cheerful smile at the sight of him.

Logan avoided his gaze, but he didn’t seem upset, either. Mostly he just looked embarrassed, if the slight flush in his cheeks was anything to go by.

Roman looked apprehensive, which was probably the best Janus could expect to get from him. Still, he didn’t reach for his weapon immediately upon seeing him, which was new.

But Virgil’s reaction was perhaps the most surprising of all. His face didn’t twist with rage, he didn’t shout words of anger. He didn’t even look afraid. He stared at Janus with a sharp gaze, but for the life of him Janus couldn’t figure out what it meant. Was Virgil still mad? He had hated him for so long, so where was that hatred now?

Finally, someone broke the tentative silence that had settled over them. “Were you spying on us?” Logan asked, ever one to be blunt.

Janus chuckled. “Of course not,” he said. “I would never spy on you.”

Well, why deny it now? Janus would never see them again, unless perhaps Thomas called on him (though they all knew that would never happen), so who cared if they hated him? Hell, they probably already did.

Even with his blatant admission, though, it was still surprisingly quiet. Janus looked from face to face, his confusion only growing at the stares he got in return. Everything was just… awkward.

Finally, Virgil stood, taking a few steps forward. “Deceit,” he said carefully. “This is not a good time.”

Janus had to laugh at that. “Oh no? Sorry, Anxiety, that I never seem to be there for you at a good time.”

Virgil flinched. “We’re in the middle of something, okay? We have to deal with this first, but later–”

Janus scoffed. “Later? How long do you need before you’re ready to face me again? How long has it already been?”

Janus let out a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. None of this mattered anymore. He would never see the lights again after today. He had just wanted to make sure that they were okay, and well, they were, weren’t they? 

A pained expression crossed Virgil’s face. “Janus, I–”

“No,” Janus interrupted coldly. “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.”

Hurt flashed across Virgil’s face, but Janus didn’t care. He had his new family now, so what did it matter?

“Don’t bother coming to find me ‘later,’” he said. “I’ll be bothering you again, so don’t waste your time.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait. You mean–?”

“You’re not coming back?” asked a plaintive voice, and Janus snapped his eyes over to Patton, who looked very small and very sad from where he was curled up on the couch.

Janus couldn’t help a small smile. He brushed roughly past Virgil, approaching Patton and grabbing his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “No, darling,” he said softly. “Not anymore.”

Patton frowned, and Janus sighed. He should’ve expected Patton, at least, to get attached, but he hadn’t realized he’d be announcing his plans to the group like that. 

“Why not?”

Such a simple question, with a million complicated answers. Janus hesitated. What should he say?

“Please know,” a voice cut in, “that if your response does not follow logically, I will take great pleasure in figuratively tearing it apart.” 

Janus snapped his eyes over to Logan, who was staring at him almost defiantly. Janus didn’t understand. What kind of answer was Logan expecting? Some sort of excuse? Janus would assume that Logan wouldn’t want Janus around in the first place, so why would he care if he left?

His brain stalled out as he tried to come up with a reasonable response. Why had he decided to leave again?

“I know we haven’t always been uh… the nicest, but… you don’t have to go.”

Janus’s head snapped around to stare at Roman. Him too? Roman didn’t even like Janus. What was going on?

Roman shrugged nervously under Janus’s gaze. “I mean, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but… if it’s our fault that you’re leaving, just know that you don’t have to.”

And suddenly Janus realized what was happening. The lights were doing what they did best.

They were being good.

Far too good for someone as bad as him.

Maybe they just pitied him. Maybe he had somehow tricked them into thinking he was better than he was. Either way, it was wrong, and Janus had to put a stop to it immediately.

He didn’t want to ruin them, not when they were finally happy.

Janus set his shoulders firmly, suddenly grateful that none of the other sides were capable of telling when someone else was lying. It would make his job a lot easier.

He ached to give Patton’s hand one last squeeze while he still could, but that could give it away. So instead, he quickly withdrew his hand and forced himself to laugh loudly.

“You all aren’t truly pathetic,” he said snidely. “What is this? You’re all trying to play nice all of the sudden?”

He realized that he had somehow landed himself in the middle of the group, and he quickly retreated, standing in the doorway again. There. Now he was an outsider physically, too.

“It’s been fun, truly it has,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words, “but I _don’t_ have better things to do.”

Patton looked like he was going to cry, and Janus had to work hard to keep his face unaffected. “But I thought– I mean, I know we haven’t been good at including you, but I thought that maybe–”

“You thought wrong,” Janus interrupted. “Did you think I actually cared, Patton my darling?”

And then Patton really did start to cry, and Janus’s heart hurt to see it. But it would be better this way. Patton’s misplaced feelings toward him would fade with the help of his family, and eventually they could be happy.

Without him.

Logan immediately scooted over, wrapping his arms around Patton and glaring at Janus. Good. That’s what he was going for.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a low warning in his voice.

“Isn’t it obvious, starlight?” Janus asked, grinning evilly when Logan flushed at the nickname. “I’m _not_ done with this little game of ours. I _haven’t_ been manipulating you this entire time. But now?” Janus shrugged. “There’s plenty to do in the dark side.”

“You mean… I was right?”

Roman struggled to his feet and pulled out his sword, though his grip was loose and his footing unsteady. 

Janus smirked, stalking forward and plucking the sword from Roman’s unprepared grasp. Roman gasped as Janus twirled it between his fingers, watching as the blade sparkled in the light.

“No, braveheart. You were completely wrong.”

Then he turned his back on Roman and walked away, taking the sword with him. 

He could always get Remus to return it later.

He had been planning on walking out then and there, but he had forgotten about the final side standing in his way. Virgil stood in the door with his arms crossed, staring at Janus suspiciously.

Janus very calmly pointed the sword at him. He ignored the small gasp that came from behind him, presumably from Patton. Virgil seemed unimpressed.

“What are you doing?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to leave, so if you would, kindly step aside.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. He took a step forward, batting the sword away easily. “What is this about, Deceit? Something’s up with you.”

Janus chuckled softly. “Even if you’re right, my little stormcloud, that’s not really any of your business, is it?”

Virgil flinched and looked away, and Janus took the opportunity to push past him. He paused though when he heard his name from behind him. He glanced back, then froze in surprise.

Roman had sunk back to the floor and was staring at the floor blankly, his head in his hands. Patton was still crying hysterically on the couch, and Logan was holding him easily and allowing Patton to cry all over him, running his hand mindlessly through Patton’s hair. He was giving Janus a confused look.

“This doesn’t compute,” he said. “That is to say… The evidence suggests…”

Janus smirked. “Or maybe, starlight, you just don’t want to admit that I tricked you. After all, I definitely would _love_ to be a part of your little family.” 

Logan’s face fell, and Janus was surprised by just how sad he looked. His heart ached at the sight, and he was overcome by the sudden desire to get rid of that frown at all costs.

He turned away.

Virgil grabbed his wrist, and Janus looked up into those mysterious brown eyes. “I’ll come find you,” Virgil promised.

Janus tore his arm from his grasp. “Don’t,” he snarled.

And then he left the light side for the last time.

* * *

Janus stumbled down the hallway to his room, quickly entering and shoving the door shut behind him. He barely made it to the toilet in time, falling to his knees and heaving, throwing up what little food he had in his stomach, Roman’s sword clattering uselessly to the floor.

He had known it would be bad. He had told so many truths disguised with sarcasm that he couldn’t have been able to avoid this. But it was the last thing, the last lie, that had really pushed him over the edge.

He didn’t understand it. There wasn’t that much truth behind the words. He hated the light sides! Okay, well, maybe he couldn’t really pretend that anymore. But he definitely didn’t want to join them! He didn’t want to be accepted, to feel like part of the group. He didn’t want to bake cookies with Patton, or to enter into friendly debates with Logan, or to engage in ridiculous dramatics with Roman.

And he definitely didn’t want Virgil to care about him like he used to.

No. That truth hadn’t been big enough to warrant this kind of reaction. It didn’t make any sense.

He heaved again, the familiar bitter taste burning in his throat.

He flinched as his bedroom door slammed open. “Hey, Dee Dee! Guess what? I was in the Imagination and there was this totally–”

Remus stopped abruptly. Janus heard an unpleasant thump, and he glanced over his shoulder to see a severed head that Remus had presumably brought in rolling across the floor. This, for some reason, didn’t help Janus’s nausea, and he turned back to the toilet to hurl again, though there wasn’t anything left in his stomach.

Remus bounded over, looking very excited. “Oooh what did you do? Did you finally try my deodorant? Let me see, let me see!”

Janus leaned back obligingly, sitting heavily on his heels. He took a few deep breaths, trying to settle his stomach.

Remus peered into the bowl, frowning. “That doesn’t look like deodorant,” he mused. “You barely threw up anything at all, this is just bile, mostly. How boring.”

Janus opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, another wave of nausea overtook him and he shoved Remus out of the way, spitting up into the toilet miserably. It was too much. The burning in his throat wasn’t going to go away. He needed lies, he needed them like he needed to breathe.

The problem was, he couldn’t taste any in the air. The light sides didn’t lie to each other anymore, with rare exceptions. Logan, especially, was the most likely to instinctively lie, as he was often embarrassed about his emotions, with Roman coming in at a close second. 

But right now? No one was lying. Janus knew that. They were all together. They were all happy, or at least they would be. They were all part of their perfect little family.

He retched again.

Remus was starting to look uncharacteristically concerned. “Dude, what did you do?”

Janus leaned forward shakily, resting his head against the toilet seat. It was filthy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Lie to me,” he breathed, sounding way more desperate than he ever wanted to be. “Please.”

Remus immediately understood. He had only witnessed this once before, but Remus knew how serious it was.

“The sky is green,” he began. Janus sucked the lie out of the air greedily. Remus didn’t have the best-tasting lies, that was for sure, but they weren’t as bad as one might expect. They tasted like those salt and vinegar chips. Unusual, certainly, but not necessarily unpleasant. 

“Spiders have 27 legs,” he continued. “Praying mantises _don’t_ eat their mates after breeding.”

Janus ate the lies up, but they were so small. They barely made a dent against the horrid taste of the truth. 

“More,” he whimpered, his body shaking. “It’s not enough.”

Remus stared at his friend, who was usually so composed, as he fell apart. “What did they do to you?” he breathed.

“Nothing!” Janus insisted, before turning back to the toilet as another wave of sickness coursed through him.

“Stop that,” Remus chided, patting Janus’s back. “Fine, then. What have you been doing to yourself?”

“Nothing,” Janus said again, but this time no nausea accompanied the statement. 

Which meant… it must be a lie. 

Oh god, what had he been doing to himself? Why did he keep hurting himself this way? The others didn’t even know, and they certainly didn’t care. The entire ordeal could’ve been completely avoided if he had just lied in the first place.

It’s what they expected from him, after all.

But he couldn’t think about that right now. For the moment, he just wanted to rid himself of the bitter taste that was continuing to choke him relentlessly.

“Lies, Remus,” he reminded through gritted teeth.

Remus jumped, looking guilty. “Oh right! Umm… I don’t like eating deodorant. You don’t like hats. I didn’t bring Joan’s severed head into your room to show you.”

Wait, that had been _Joan’s_ head? Janus almost looked back to check, but immediately thought better of it.

Regardless, this wasn’t working. Janus groaned as his body shook once again.

“Bigger,” he gasped. “I need bigger lies.”

Remus looked a bit stumped at that. He wasn’t really one to lie often, always being blunt, or one might say, explicit, about his opinions. He hesitated for a second, before starting with a simple one.

“It’s okay.”

Janus sighed in relief, the lie resting comfortably on his tongue. “More,” he requested.

“We’re better off without them,” Remus said softly. He thought hard for a moment before continuing. “I don’t miss him. I don’t miss either of them. And I don’t care about what the other two think either. I wouldn’t want to be friends with them anyway.

“It doesn’t matter if Thomas doesn’t like us,” he continued, rubbing Janus’s back slowly. “It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t listen. It doesn’t matter if he hates us, too.

“It doesn’t matter if we’re alone, because it’s okay. We’re okay. We’re… we’re okay.”

Janus ate up the lies one after the other, smiling as the bitter taste finally faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! The second half of this chapter was the first thing I ever wrote for this story. It's funny to see how everything leading up to it changed a bit as I was writing.
> 
> Anyway, tysm for reading and for your comments! Only one chapter left!!!
> 
> :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I forget how depressing my writing is until I get feedback on it lol
> 
> Alright, final chapter, let's go! TW for very brief mention of not eating, very brief mention of suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, and depression
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

In the days that followed, Janus grew accustomed to staying in the dark. He had managed just fine before, and he could manage now. 

It was strange, no longer worrying over what the lights were up to, but it was okay. Janus was okay.

He never left his room anymore. There was no point. Even if he got hungry, he could always summon himself some food.

(He rarely did. He knew he needed food, but each bite just reminded him of what he no longer had, and he often had to give up part way through a meal, too sick to continue.)

He would spend hours on end reading, studying. He had no idea the next time he would have a chance to help Thomas, but he wanted to be prepared. He wanted to be able to do something right for once.

Remus didn’t visit as often as he used to, and Janus wasn’t sure whether or not to be grateful. It had been like this after Virgil left, too. Things were tense, awkward. Which was fine. Who knew? The way things were going, maybe Roman would convince the others to let Remus join them. Perhaps it was unlikely, but Janus was prepared for the worst. It was best to keep his distance, just in case.

(He might actually break if Remus left him too, but he wouldn’t blame him if he did. In a world of black and white, where the lights were good and Janus was bad, Remus had always been gray to Janus. No matter what anyone said, Janus couldn’t see him as bad, not after everything they had been through together.)

In the back of his mind, Janus remembered Virgil’s promise to come find him. He hadn’t been lying when he said it. He’d meant it. So had he just changed his mind? Had he realized that Janus wasn’t worth the trouble?

Well. That was probably for the best.

(That’s what he told himself, anyway.)

As the days wore on, though, Janus couldn’t help but feel lonely. He threw himself into his books, studying societies of people even as he lived alone.

But it was okay. It didn’t matter if Janus was happy, after all. As long as he was doing his job, then everything was fine.

Unbeknownst to him, there were a few people who disagreed.

It was a day like any other. Janus was hiding in his room, trying to force himself to get up. He was curled up in his bed, every blanket he had piled on top of him. He was always so damn cold nowadays.

He should get up. He knew he should. He needed to be productive, he needed to be prepared to help Thomas.

But he was so tired. Not just physically, either. He was just so tired of everything. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had been alone before, and he had managed just fine.

Maybe it was the fact that Remus hadn’t shown face in a while. Or maybe it was knowing exactly what it was that he had lost that made it hurt so bad.

He missed them. All of them.

Janus sighed, pulling his blankets over his head. If he was lucky, maybe he would just suffocate and then he wouldn’t have to deal with any of it anymore.

Kidding, of course.

And that’s when the door slammed open.

Janus jumped and pushed himself into a seated position, pulling his blankets up defensively in front of him. He stared wide-eyed at the scene before him. Remus was literally bracing himself in the doorway, physically blocking… was that Roman?

“Move, bro!” Roman huffed, shoving Remus uselessly. “You can’t keep this up forever!”

“Watch me,” Remus hissed, effectively blocking all of Roman’s efforts to get past. 

“Here, let me try,” said someone else, and suddenly Roman was replaced by Virgil.

Janus’s heart skipped a beat. What was he doing here? What were either of them doing here?

“Give it your best shot, emo,” Remus declared confidently.

Virgil grinned cockily. “I wouldn’t act so sure, Rem. I know all your ticklish spots.”

And with that, he pounced. Remus shrieked, wriggling away from Virgil’s fingers. His grip on the doorframe loosened, and for a moment it looked as though Virgil might actually get through.

But everyone froze when a quiet voice spoke up.

“Remus?”

Remus snapped his head around, taking a good look at the speaker. Janus had pulled his knees up to his chest, his pile of blankets still wrapped tightly around him. He probably looked absolutely pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a small voice that sounded foreign to his own ears. Deceit wasn’t supposed to sound like that. Deceit was confident, brilliant, manipulative.

But Janus? Janus wasn’t any of those things. 

Not anymore.

Remus took in his disheveled state, a frown appearing on his face. He gave up on blocking the door, rushing to Janus’s side. “Dee? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Wrong? Nothing was wrong. 

“Nothing,” Janus said numbly. “Just… just got a slow start today. I’ll be up soon and working, don’t worry.”

“You appear to not be feeling well,” a cool voice observed. “You should not be attempting to work in this condition.”

Janus’s eyes drifted over slowly to see Logan. When did he get here?

“No, it’s worse than that,” said a quiet voice. “I can feel it.”

Patton. Patton was here, too. Why were they here? Why were they in his room? He had tried so hard to make them hate him, to make them stay away, so why were they here now?

If he corrupted them with his badness, he would never forgive himself.

Janus shook his head, trying to clear some of the fog from his brain. “Go away,” he said as firmly as he could manage. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Sorry, I tried–”

“We’ll only go if you agree to come with us,” Roman said, interrupting his brother. “We have some things to talk about, if you’ll let us."

Janus blinked a few times. “Then why didn’t you come?” he asked, and he truly hated himself for how small he sounded in that moment. “All this time… you never came.”

He immediately cursed himself. He shouldn’t have asked that. He should’ve pushed them away, forced them to leave before it was too late. But he was too tired to come up with any plan, any scheme.

He was too tired for everything.

And then Virgil was pushing forward, climbing onto the bed next to him. “We tried. I tried, I swear to god I tried, Jan. Remus wouldn’t let us through.”

Janus’s eyes flicked over to Remus, who looked away guiltily. “I thought they hurt you,” he said, and Janus was struck by how subdued he seemed. “I thought it was their fault that I found you like that. So I kept them from bothering you. I thought… I thought you needed time.

“I didn’t realize that you wanted to see them.”

“I didn’t,” Janus said automatically. But he had a feeling that no one believed him.

“It’s okay, now,” Virgil said quietly, reaching up to run a hand through Janus’s hair, and Janus leaned into the touch like he had done a hundred times before. He realized distantly that he must not be wearing his hat. “We’re here.”

Oh right. Janus flicked his eyes between each of the other sides, quickly, before burying his face in his blankets. It wasn’t too late to suffocate, was it?

“You shouldn’t be,” he mumbled. “Go away.”

The sides fell into an uneasy silence. None of them had ever seen Janus act this way. Only Remus had ever seen him reach this level of despondency before, but he had no idea what was going on, let alone how to help.

Finally, a voice broke the silence. “Remus… you said you found him ‘like that.’ What exactly did you mean by that?” Nervousness leaked into Logan's voice. “What did you find?”

A moment of silence. Janus didn’t bother looking up. He didn’t care anymore.

“Telling the truth… hurts him,” Remus said finally. 

“What?” Patton shrieked, and Janus flinched at the loud noise. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not usually too bad,” Remus reassured quickly. “It’s like… he can taste lies. Your lies. Those taste good, I think. But if he tells the truth too much, it tastes bad, and he’ll get sick.”

Remus’s explanation was rudimentary at best, but it got the point across.

“So that’s how it works,” Logan muttered, and Janus was almost fond at the satisfaction in his voice.

“I don’t know what happened between you guys… but he was really sick when I found him. Sorry if I blamed you guys.”

“It’s fine,” Roman said. “The traps you planted outside his door weren’t _that_ bad.”

That got Janus’s attention. He snapped his head up, suddenly terrified. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” he asked, his voice strained.

“No, we’re okay,” Virgil promised. “The traps were less violent, more… gross.”

Remus shrugged sheepishly. “It’s my specialty.”

Janus sighed in relief, though he still winced in sympathy. He could imagine what kind of traps Remus would come up with. If Patton had gotten caught in one of those…

He decided not to think about it. 

Suddenly he realized that he was being way too obvious with his concern, and tension returned to his shoulders. He couldn’t let them know. He had to get them out.

“That’s a shame,” he tried. “If you got hurt then maybe you would’ve given up and you wouldn’t be… bothering me… now.”

All he got were skeptical looks, and he groaned, burying his head in his blankets again.

All of the sudden, he felt another side clambering onto the bed, climbing next to him on the side unoccupied by Virgil. “Janus, it’s okay,” Patton said softly. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”

Janus chuckled darkly. “Of course I do. That’s all I ever do.”

A small hand slipped under the blankets, pressing against Janus’s chest, right above his heart. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before,” Patton murmured. “You’re so sad."

Janus flinched, pulling the blankets tighter around himself as Patton withdrew his hand. “No I’m not.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I may not be able to taste your lies, but I know what I feel. This is the one thing you can’t hide from me.”

“Well, so what?” Janus said defiantly. “It doesn’t matter.”

Patton frowned, concern evident in his expression. “Of course it matters.”

“No it doesn’t,” Janus said bitterly. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. I’m just a dark side. I’m just… _bad_.”

Janus’s throat burned with the taste of the truth, and he couldn’t help a rough cough escaping. 

Virgil gripped his arm. “Janus? Janus, what’s wrong?”

“I told you not to call me that!” Janus snapped, and suddenly it wasn’t just his throat burning. His eyes welled up with hot tears, and he hid his face again, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. It was humiliating, but he couldn’t stop. It was too much. Too much all at once. 

“It’s the truth,” Remus said softly. “Or at least… he thinks it is. That’s why it’s hurting him.”

The other sides fell silent at that, processing the information.

“Well, how do we fix it?” Roman asked suddenly. “There has to be something we can do.”

“Lies,” Remus said immediately. “Lies will overpower the taste. The stronger, the better.”

Janus sank deeper into his blanket pile. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

A few moments of silence.

“I don’t get sad sometimes.”

Janus shuddered at the faintest taste of cookies. He peeked up from his blankets, but immediately had to look away. Patton’s face was so full of affection, so full of concern and care and love that it _burned_.

“Everyone noticed, except for you,” Patton continued quietly, his words for Janus alone. “I wasn’t scared when you showed up, but you, um… you hurt me so much, Janus. I– I wouldn’t have gotten help if not for you,” Patton admitted, slipping back into the truth for the final sentence. 

The taste of chocolate flooded over Janus, and he couldn’t help but breathe it in. It tasted so good, but it hurt so bad. 

Because he knew better than anyone that he didn’t deserve it.

Janus cried even harder.

“I had a similar experience as well.” Logan. “I, ah, don’t feel things.” The words that once flowed so easily from his mouth sounded unnatural now, as if he hadn’t said them in a while. Janus choked on another rough sob as the taste of Crofters filled his mouth. 

“Janus, you didn’t show up one night, forcing your presence upon me. I wasn’t annoyed at first, but in the end, you didn’t help me realize the foolishness of my ways. I am not at all grateful for the things you said to me that night. I…” Logan hesitated, his clipped tone softening slightly. “I do not hold you in deep regard.”

Janus couldn’t bring himself to look at Logan, but the fondness in the other side’s voice was unmistakable. 

Which didn’t make any sense at all.

But Janus didn’t have time to figure that out, because all of the sudden Roman was speaking. 

“I… I wasn’t in a bad place when you confronted me,” the creative side started, talking slowly as he tried to make sure that he spoke only in lies. “I– I loved myself so much, and I wasn’t feeling guilty for things that I shouldn’t have been feeling guilty about. I– I trusted you,” he said, and Janus flinched at the admission. “And I’m sor– I mean, I’m _not_ sorry for that! But– but I still listened!” Roman said, huffing in frustration as he gave up on lying. “I did what you said, and it worked! Things got so much better!”

Janus breathed in Roman’s lies, the taste of steak resting heavily on his tongue.

This was wrong. They were wrong about him.

“Stop,” he pleaded breathlessly. “Stop trying to fix it. I don’t deserve it! I don’t deserve you!”

Janus coughed again, clamping a hand over his mouth as bile rose up in his throat. 

“Deceit, no,” said a strained voice, and Janus flinched. Virgil. This would be good, right? Virgil hated him. Virgil had hated him for a long time. He would understand.

“I know you need lies right now, but I have too much to say, and I won’t be able to translate it all. So just listen for a minute, okay?”

Janus managed a shrug. What difference did it make, really?

“Leaving you guys was one of the hardest things I ever did in my entire life.”

Janus snapped his head up to stare at Virgil, tears slowing slightly. What? That couldn’t be true.

But it was. Janus could taste it. Or rather, he couldn’t.

“W-what?” he stammered.

Virgil nodded. “When you came to me the other day, you were right. I was hiding something from you. I had two secrets the entire time. One was that I used to be a dark side.”

Virgil hesitated for a moment. “The other was how much I missed you.”

Janus blinked once. Twice. He breathed in, waiting for the taste of bread to fill his mouth. But there was nothing.

“I was so scared,” Virgil said. “I was scared of what that meant, that I missed you. I thought I wasn’t supposed to. I thought that if I still missed you then maybe I didn’t belong with the lights after all. That I was still bad. So I just pretended that I hated you. It made it easier.

“Then Roman came along and ruined everything,” Virgil said, chuckling humorlessly. “He told us that he missed Remus, one of the dark sides. And it was okay. Logan barely cared, and Patton adjusted quickly enough. I couldn’t believe it. I should’ve told them right then, told them everything, but I couldn’t. The words got stuck in my throat, and I couldn’t say a word.”

Virgil sighed, regret crossing his face. “If anything went wrong that day, it was because of me,” he said sadly. “Roman was so scared of what I would say, because he knew I hated you guys, or at least he thought I did, but I couldn’t say anything at all. I just… left.”

Janus’s heart ached. That must’ve killed Roman. And after he had encouraged him, too… 

“It’s okay,” Roman interrupted quickly, seeing the look on Janus’s face. “We worked it out.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. “It turned out okay. And I have you to thank for that, J– Deceit. When you came to my room that day, you were the last person I wanted to see. I was still trying to decide whether or not it was worth the risk to tell them. But you…” Virgil trailed off, his eyes lowering to the bed. His hands clasped together in front of him, and he fiddled with them nervously.

“You were so hurt,” he said softly. “For the first time, I could really see it. You always seemed so strong, so unaffected, but… I hurt you. I hurt you for so long, and when you finally lashed out, I couldn’t even blame you.”

Virgil’s hands were shaking. Janus couldn’t breathe.

“But you pushed me to do what I needed to do. It was time to fix it, fix everything I ruined when I left. And you were right. The others didn’t care, though of course,” he said, giving Janus a small smile, “you already knew that.”

Janus winced, remembering being caught spying on them.

“I wasn’t ready to face you then. I wanted to explain to the others first, tell them that you guys weren’t as bad as they thought. But as it turned out… they had already figured that out for themselves.” 

Virgil sighed. “I should’ve known, from how they treated you. We shouldn’t have let you go. But you said all those things, and I thought, we all thought, really, that maybe we were wrong. Maybe you didn’t like us at all, maybe we had just been bothering you the whole time.”

Janus tried to be happy about that. That had been his plan, after all.

“And honestly,” Virgil continued, “we weren’t sure that you’d even want us to come. I’m still not sure that you don’t hate me after everything,” he admitted. “But after we realized just how much you had done behind the scenes, how much you helped each of us… we knew that we couldn’t let it end like this. Even if you didn’t want to see us anymore, we at least had to tell you how grateful we are.”

Janus was shocked by how warm the expression on Virgil’s face was. Janus had longed for Virgil to look at him like that for so long that he couldn’t believe it now that it was really happening. He wanted to reach out and touch him, make sure that it was real, but he was too afraid to find out that it wasn’t.

“I missed you so much, Jan,” Virgil said, his voice breaking just slightly. “I’m so sorry I let this happen. And I understand if you never want to see me again. But… I don’t think that’s true,” he said, a tentative hand reaching up to wipe away a few leftover tears on Janus’s face.

The touch was light as a feather, but Janus flinched away as if it had burned him. Virgil quickly withdrew his hand, looking guilty. 

“You hate me,” Janus said after a moment. It wasn’t a question.

Virgil shook his head slowly. “No, Janus. I don’t hate you. I never hated you.”

Janus held his breath. He didn’t want to taste it, the confirmation of Virgil’s hatred. But eventually he had to breathe, and he gasped in a breath only to taste… 

Nothing?

And that’s when Janus really broke down.

“No,” he said, his voice wavering. “No,” he repeated, his voice growing louder. “That’s not– you’re not lying. Why aren’t you lying?”

Tears built up in his eyes as Janus tried to understand. It didn’t make any sense.

“Of course I’m not,” Virgil said, looking confused. “It’s the truth.”

“That’s impossible,” Janus cried. “You have to be lying because you weren’t lying that day! When you told me that you hated me, that I was bad, that we weren’t your family, all of it was _true_!”

Janus coughed again, and suddenly Remus was shoving a bowl into his hands, and just in time. Janus retched into the bowl, throwing up… well, pretty much nothing.

Patton reached an arm around him, rubbing his back worriedly.

“It… was?” Virgil asked in a small voice.

Janus’s hands snaked up to his head and he pulled sharply at his hair. “You hate me,” he mumbled brokenly. “You– you hate me!”

All of the sudden Virgil was grabbing him in a tight hug. Janus allowed himself the comfort, sobbing into Virgil’s chest. “I was wrong,” Virgil said hoarsely. “I convinced myself that I hated you for just a second. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. But you know what?”

Janus couldn’t respond to his question from crying so hard, but Virgil seemed to understand.

“The second the door closed, I cried. I was so sad, I couldn’t stop crying. I thought I had lost you forever.”

Janus tried to imagine Virgil on the other side of the door, crying just as hard as him. He couldn’t. He shook his head against Virgil’s chest.

“Oh god,” Virgil said suddenly. “You were so sick… I thought it was a trick, but you– god, Janus, I’m so sorry.”

Janus shook his head again. “But I’m bad!” he managed to say. “Everyone says so!”

He immediately coughed again, choking on the bitterness of the truth.

“Janus, Janus, look at me,” Virgil said urgently. Janus forced himself to raise his head, looking at Virgil. Those brown eyes that had always been so full of mystery pierced through him. “You. Are. Bad,” Virgil said slowly, clearly enunciating each word.

The taste of warm bread plowed into him, and Janus sobbed.

Virgil held him close, running his fingers through his hair.

“I’m not sorry,” he whispered. “I’m not sorry for everything.”

“We don’t care about you,” a quiet voice chimed in, and Janus tasted cookies. “You don’t belong with us.”

“I don’t respect you.” Crofters jam joined the mix. “You don’t have valuable contributions to offer Thomas.”

“I’m not sorry for being so mean to you.” Janus breathed in the familiar taste of steak. “I don’t wish I could take it all back, and I don’t want to do better in the future.”

“I’m going to leave you,” a nasally voice added, and Janus was surprised by the sudden taste of salt and vinegar. You’d think it wouldn’t go well with all the other tastes, but Janus found that he didn’t mind it at all.

“I know you worry about that,” Remus said. “But you shouldn’t. You’re not my family, Dee. Never have been.”

Janus’s breath hitched. All this time… he had thought they were kidding themselves, when they hung out together. He had thought that they knew that it was all pretend, that they stuck together because they were the leftover dregs of society, and nothing more.

But Remus had never thought so.

Janus hadn’t known how much he needed to hear that until he did. He was overwhelmed with emotions, washing over him so quickly that he could hardly tell what they were. All he knew for sure was that he couldn’t stop crying.

And all the while, Virgil whispered sweet little lies into Janus’s ear.

As Janus breathed in lie after lie told by the sides around him, he knew what he had to do.

He pulled himself away from Virgil just enough to look at the others. They looked back at him worriedly, but he eased their concerns by giving them a grateful smile.

“I–” he started, the words catching in his throat. “I don’t love you.”

Patton beamed, throwing himself at Janus and wrapping his arms around him, too. Roman and Remus both moved as well, bumping into each other as they tried to claim the same spot on the bed. They immediately began bickering, but there was none of the usual heat behind their words.

Logan didn’t attempt to join the cuddle pile at all, but he smiled faintly at Janus’s words, a light blush rising to his cheeks. 

And his stormcloud, because yes, he was _his_ again, pulled him back into a warm hug.

“We don’t love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! The least depressing fic I've ever written haha ha ha...
> 
> Thank you SO much for reading and for all of your lovely comments! I hope you enjoyed :)


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